


Detachment

by belivaird_st



Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: Angst, Drama & Romance, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Separations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2018-11-29 03:00:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 40,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11431782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belivaird_st/pseuds/belivaird_st
Summary: AU: Set in Modern Day NYC.Carol and Therese are separated.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure where this is going but I had fun writing it. Story set in modern day as Carol a successful novelist and Therese a former art photographer who has lost pretty much everything after the break up.

You would think seeing an old flame would ignite a few sparks and make life more pleasant, but when New York Times bestselling author, Carol Aird comes home and sees her ex-lover lying half naked upstairs in bed, she does a doubletake and stumbles back against the doorframe in a pair of white running shoes.

"Hey, sexy," Therese greets her as she holds the side of her face with a string of yellow Juicy Fruit gum dangling from her bottom lip. 

Carol shifts slightly, but then stands very still, trying to keep calm and remain confident without exploding. "What are you doing here, Therese?" the question seems very appropriate and easy for her to ask. Her normal, gravelly voice is smooth and hard as a flat stone.

"Wow. I don't even get a fucking 'hi' from you anymore?" Therese snaps, watching her true love flinch at the cuss word. Good. She wants to startle Carol. She wants to rattle her like a baby's toy. Therese watches Carol close her eyes while rubbing her temples with both hands. There are dark sweat stains underneath the armpits of her hot pink color tank top and around the scoop neckline. Her blonde hair is pulled back into a high ponytail, which only pisses Therese off and makes her have the sudden urge to yank the dumb elastics out.

"I don't have time for this," Carol mutters, more to herself really. She slaps one hand on her curvy, black spandex hip and stares at Therese's pile of clothes thrown on the multicolored rug. "First off, how did you get into my apartment?"

"Your landlord let me in. He's really not that difficult to persuade when he sees a nice rack!" Therese chews her gum loudly and pulls some of the coral sheets off to reveal her breasts. 

Carol is not aroused like she should be, but hot and tired from her hourly run. "Will you please just leave? Whatever this is - Whatever you think you're about to do-"

"Fuck you," Therese spats. "You must really think you're hot shit now, just because you published a novel?" she snorts. " _I am the one who got you to the top in the first place! Remember?_ " she throws the rest of the sheets off her and starts clasping her bra back on.

"Yes, I remember... How are you?" Carol mutters. "How's Richard?" she avoids the glare and regrets mentioning him.

"He's fine. He bought me a puppy," Therese shrugs. "She's a bulldog that loves to get into everything and pees a lot. We've named her Billie after Billie Holiday."

Carol smirks and waits for Therese to finish pulling her shorts and faded red T-shirt back on with her belt jutting out. She finally gets off the bed and walks closer until they're face-to-face.

"I miss you," Therese whispers. She grabs Carol's hand in hers, making the woman look at her directly. "I can't stop thinking about you - what we had and how happy we were..."

Carol carelessly pulls her hand back. 

"Please, baby, let me in again," Therese begs, now shedding some tears. "I know I messed up, but I want another chance-"

"It's too late for that," Carol says sourly. "I kept giving you chances after chances, but you still kept backfiring them. You kept flirting with other people and make up these really lame ass excuses! You broke me inside out, Therese, and it took me a damn long time to heal myself back up from all of it."

"Don't blame me for all of it!" Therese shouts, pointing a finger. "You - You drink too much! And you're always late for everything! Our dates! My gallery shows! Plus, you never spend any time with your daughter! Rindy hates you! She-"

Carol slaps Therese hard across the face, reeling her back. The atmosphere has now become thick and deadly. Therese, sniffling, touches the splotchy red welt on her left cheek and trembles. Carol looks at her, both ashamed and outraged.

" _Don't ever talk about my daughter like that! Do you understand?_ " her voice sounds raw and screechy and unfamiliar. 

"She’s my daughter, too," Therese speaks in a sad, sobbing voice. Without waiting to hear a response, she quickly grabs her flip flops and storms out of the bedroom (the bed where she and Carol made love on countless of times) stampedes downstairs and slams the door shut hard on her way out.

Carol covers her face and lets out an angry animal-like cry. So much for staying calm. She eventually drops her hands and walks straight into the bathroom to shower and decides to move on with her life and continues to be a single, divorced lesbian mother once again.


	2. Chapter 2

_Rindy hates you... hates you... hates you..._ the words keep repeating her mind over and over like an old film reel. Carol holds back her wet curls away from her dripping face and yanks the faucet handle upwards to shut the water off. She slides open the brushed nickel door and carefully steps out. Wrapping a seafoam green towel around her body, she makes it back to the bedroom and cringes over the memory of Therese lying there just minutes before.

Carol snatches her cellphone she left sticking halfway underneath her pillows and finds out she has 4 missed calls from her literary agent, 2 from her dietitian and 1 friendly reminder of a book signing appearance she must attend to The Barn Owl Bookstore tonight at 6pm. Yikes! She almost forgot. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she wonders what she's going to wear for the special occasion. Her phone suddenly vibrates in her hands. She looks down to find a text message from an unknown number:

**check out ur pics ;)**

Frowning, Carol taps the photo app with her thumb and feels panic rise up in her heart when she finds several selfie pictures of Therese on her bed - smiling, tongue sticking out, crossed eyes, duck lips. The faces are all too much for Carol and she deletes every single one of them in disgust. Her phone vibrates again with another text message from the same unknown number:

**My Carol. My heart and soul <3**

Carol blocks the number and makes a quick escape downstairs. She has no intention of staying in her room now. In the kitchen, she sets her phone down on the Formica counter top and spies the half-empty bottle of red wine that is surrounded by dirty cups and plates alongside the sink. _I do not drink too much!_ Carol grabs the bottle and dumps the rest of the drink down the drain. She storms over to her laptop she left on the coffee table in the living room and carries it to the balcony window that has been her favorite spot to research and type her ideas. She lays on the small cushion with her legs folded together and head resting on the glass window pane. Her mind is not on the sequel of her bestseller piece - _No Air At His Place_ but on Rindy, her daughter. Carol decides to Skype her.

"Mommy!" her daughter's voice sounds bleary through the connection, but her face fills up the screen, all smiles with two missing front teeth. Rindy's location appears to be in the comforting dining room set of her grandparents' beach house in Florida. She is wearing a yellow Trolls’ Poppy summer dress with her hair braided in one small ponytail. There's something glittery on her cheek. It's a butterfly sticker.

"Hello my darling! My beautiful, sweet baby girl! You've grown so much! How are you, sweetheart?" Carol gushes in one whole breath. She brings her laptop closer and wishes she could just teleport herself right there in Florida to give Rindy a thousand kisses and a great big bear hug. Their computer monitor screens prevents them getting any sort of affection of course. Carol watches Rindy move about in a chair much too big for her and rambles how much she's gone swimming a lot this summer and even went on a trip to Disneyland to meet Mickey Mouse and how much poison ivy Daddy got during a hike on a mountain and so on and so forth. Rindy talks too much and too fast for her mother to register it all, but the little girl appears to be so happy and so full of life that it wants to make Carol cry under the circumstances on the fact that she's missing out and should be doing all those things with her daughter - except getting the poison ivy of course. Harge deserves that at least. When Carol hears the faint voice of her ex-husband calling their daughter's name to come outside, she crumbles as soon as Rindy stops for a second and saddens a bit.

"I gotta go, Mommy," she says. "Daddy wants me..."

 _No baby, I want you! Mommy wants you back home with her!_ Carol thinks now and feels the tears come pooling out.

"I love you," Carol finally chokes out. She's crying. "Do you hear me? I love you very much, Rindy."

"Love you too, Mommy," Rindy says softly. Her father's voice is nearer and Carol watches Rindy look up as Harge's arm outstretches and turns off the screen breaking the connection. 

" _Bastard!_ " Carol shouts. She angrily smacks her laptop before closing it and then slides herself off the window. She goes back upstairs to prepare for tonight's book signing.

* * *

As usual, the book signing becomes a hit.

A line of people are holding their copies of her latest drama thriller _No Air At His Place_ inside The Barn Owl Bookstore on 124 Crosby Street. Carol, all dressed in white - blazer, blouse, dress pants, pumps - is seated behind a rectangular table, smiling and scribbling her signature inside the flap of the book's orange-red cover. She does the usual mannerisms of fame - shaking hands, taking pictures with fans, listening to what their favorite part is in the book. Women are the majority of her fans. They adore the book's protagonist - Ebony Boone - who tries escaping the clutches of her sick, obsessive husband - Anton - during an unpleasant holiday vacation they take at Grand Canyon National Park. Carol laughs whenever she hears women mention the chapter where Ebony pushes Anton off their kayak boat and has this fear of gators in the water. "That's my favorite part, too," she tells them and chuckles when they ask her about the sequel.

"Is Anton really dead?"

"What happens in the second book?"

"Will Ebony and Amber stay together?"

"I can't tell you!" Carol laughs and presses a finger between her lips. She turns around and thanks her agent when he offers her a bottled water. Carol unscrews the cap and guzzles it, but coughs and sputters when she sees the next person standing in line. She finds this woman somewhat attractive in a billowy gold-and-black cresent blouse with a pair of cutoff jean shorts and black Sperry Top-Sider shoes. Her light blond pixie cut hair is styled with dark brown roots. She has liquid brown eyes with luscious plump, full lips.

"Hi," the woman speaks with a raspy lisp. She holds her copy of _No Air_ in her arms like a school girl.

"Hi," Carol says, and nervously wipes water off her blazer with a tissue her book agent offers her.

"Ms. Aird, I just want to say that Ebony Boone is such an inspiration to me - my hero, really - well, you are really my hero-" the woman rolls her lips back and blushes with slight embarrassment. Carol smirks and watches this pretty individual hold her copy out.

"Thank you, Miss...?" Carol sets the paperback down and clicks on her pen. 

"Gerhard. Abby Gerhard," the woman says.

Carol smiles and scrawls **_A delight you are, Abby Gerhard! Read on, there's more!_** with both of her and Ebony's name below it.

Abby takes her book back, reads the message and smiles. "I can't wait for book 2. What's it called anyway?"

"Nice try, but that's a secret," Carol grins. And to prove her point, she playfully "zips" her lips and throws away the key.


	3. Chapter 3

"If you can, make it short," Carol tells the hazel-eyed, olive-skin hairdresser - Jerome - who stands behind her black vinyl salon chair, tossing a few of her straight blond locks at their reflections in the mirror. 

"Are you sure you want me to cut it, honey?" Jerome questions, eyebrows raised. "You've got such gorgeous, long hair!"

"Cut it," Carol says firmly. "It's much too hot to keep it this length. If you have to, make me bald."

"No way, sweetie, I won't!" Jerome drops her hair that spills back down to her shoulders and reaches for the small, silver cutting scissors on the dresser table in front of them. He holds a few inches of her ends between his fingers and snip-snips. After a few minutes, Jerome takes a couple of steps backwards and dramatically covers his mouth with both hands, starstruck and amazed how short and stylish Carol's new haircut turns out to be. She smiles at herself with a new bob style cut that gives her a more handsome, masculine appearance.

"My god, what have I done?!" Jerome outbursts. Tears bubble up from his eyelids. "I've turned you into some kind of page-boy!"

"Much better, darling! It's great!" Carol laughs and runs her fingers through her now short, glossy blond locks. When she gets down from the chair, she picks up her navy blue canvas bag on the tile floor and pulls her wallet out. She tries giving thirty bucks to the upset-looking, gay hairdresser.

"I don't want your money," he wails.

"Please. _Take it_ ," Carol insists, and then she uncharacteristically stuffs the ten-dollar bills inside the man's left red, deck shorts' pocket. He chokes out a sob as he watches her leave the salon, pulling the canvas bag strap higher around her shoulder and walks away with a bright, winning smile on her face.

Ten minutes later, Carol finds herself sitting alone at a small metal table outside of a local cafe with her laptop wide open, chin resting in one hand, staring blankly at the third document page of the sequel to her first book _No Air At His Place_. She begins typing a couple of sentences while chewing her bottom lip before stopping and hitting the backspace button repeatedly. 

“Don’t tell me you’re having writer’s block!” exclaims a familiar raspy voice. Abby Gerhard, the pretty woman from her book signing a few weeks ago, stands a couple of inches in front of her table, wearing a cranberry sleeveless dress with a bright sunflower tucked behind one ear. Her shaggy, pixie hair has been colored a light chocolate brown with golden tips at the ends. Carol’s heart flips excitedly inside her chest at the sight of Abby. The woman looks so sexy and down-to-earth it’s unbelievable.

“No, no! I wasn’t, I never…” Carol rambles and clears her throat. She takes a deep breath and smells Abby’s light, midsummer night’s moisturizing cream as she scrapes an empty chair and sits down across from her. Abby stares admiringly at Carol’s new haircut and whistles softly. 

“I love your new haircut, Ms. Aird-” she begins.

“Carol!” Carol responds sharply.

“Sorry… _Carol_.” Abby smiles and folds her hands together. “Very chic. Since when do you wear glasses anyway?”

“I don’t,” Carol giggles, taking the thick, rectangular frames off her face. “They just go along with the style.” She slips them back on. 

“Sexy. You look like a true novelist,” Abby winks. 

Carol blushes and nervously unfolds the cuff of her pinstripe sleeve. “What do you do on a daily basis, Miss Gerhard?”

“I’m a fortune teller,” Abby half shrugs. “I’m able to predict a person’s future by palmistry…”

“Palmistry?” Carol repeats.

“Reading their palms,” Abby nods. “I also do a little bit of tarot card reading and make my very own healing crystal elixirs.”

“Fascinating...” Carol leans in chair, intrigued. “How long does it take to make a healing crystal elixir?”

“It depends on what you’re making. For me, I like to take a few minutes enjoying a peaceful meditation before preparing any kind of essence. Maybe someday you can come over and check it out?” Abby sets her mocha Michael Kors wristlet down on the table and then unzips the front large pocket. She pulls out a white business card and hands it over to Carol.

“Healing the Feelings by Abby,” Carol recites the title of the card and laughs out loud merrily.

“I know, it's corny,” Abby snorts.

“I love it,” Carol giggles and presses the card against her lips; kissing the blue cursive writing of the address street and telephone number belonging to Abby’s studio building, which was only a few blocks away from the hair salon.


	4. Chapter 4

Richard’s lips feel too big and rubbery on hers. Sighing between kisses, his dry, callous hands sneak their way underneath the back of her shirt and brush along the lacy band of her bra. He grunts and tugs on it eagerly. That’s when Therese pulls their mouths apart and mumbles, “We should probably go pick up the food now.”

Richard laughs and hugs her by the waist as she sits forward on his lap on their beat-up couch. “That’s what you’ve been thinking about?” he loosens his arms and drops his hands as she slides off him and pulls her shirt back down.

“Well yeah, I’m starving,” Therese says.

“Where’s Billie? Let’s take her with us.” Richard whistles through his teeth that momentarily sends the 4-month-old blue nose pitbull clattering out from the kitchen into the living room with a chewed up piece of lettuce stuck on the corner of her jaw. The puppy head bumps right into Therese’s bare left calve and sneezes. She bends over and cups the animal’s head to examine the shriveled Roman vegetable chunk and clicks her tongue with disgust.

“Oh Billie, did you get into the trash again?” she groans, knowing the answer to that question already. Billie licks her wrist in response and tries climbing on top of her forearms to be held. Therese picks her up and makes a comment about the desire to cut the dog’s nails. She carries Billie into the kitchen and to witness the mess. The trash bin has been knocked over and lays down with heavy duty trash bag plastic ripped and garbage shredded everywhere all over the linoleum floor.

Richard hollers if there’s a mess or not, but Therese ignores him and pecks a small kiss above the puppy’s eyes. “Bad, bad girl! Look at the gross mess you made!”

Billie noses her dimple which sends Therese giggling and carries her back to the living room.

A light mist of rain falls outside, making the evening more chilly and dreary as the three of them walk along the sidewalk to Kiluba Indian Palace Restaurant. Richard complains throughout the route, huffing under his breath that they should’ve taken the subway or cab. Therese pays no attention to his lousy attitude and keeps moving with one hand holding the leash that clips onto Billie, who sniffs and wriggles a few inches ahead.

“I’m telling you, we should get a cab next time,” Richard says the moment they reach their destination. He stands back and takes the leash from Therese who has decided that she’ll be the one to go inside and grab the food.

“Will you stop? We’re here, aren’t we?” Therese steps past Billie towards the glass restaurant door, pulls it open, and goes inside, leaving her boyfriend and dog behind in the cool, drizzly weather.

The aroma of curry, sweet-sour dough bread and frying vegetables overpowers Therese and makes her stomach growl with hunger. She stops at a wooden hostess pedestal where the host peers back at her with deep hooded, unsmiling eyes.

“Pick-up?” he speaks in a thick, foreign accent.

“Yes, um, Belivet?” Therese shifts her feet and holds onto one dangling arm.

The host nods and turns around. He disappears into a flapping door that leads to the palace kitchen. Therese stands there and waits, glancing out the glass door window and sees Richard smoking with Billie wrapping her leash around his ankles. Therese smirks and then gazes around the restaurant. She finds booths filled with people eating, drinking, socializing. The host reappears with her ordered food and drops it with a loud thump to bring her attention back.

“Pick-up. Belivet,” the Indian host says firmly. He watches Therese shove her hand inside the back pocket of her jeans and pulls her wallet out. She hands him 60 dollars.

“Thank you, come again,” the host smiles a bright, award-winning smile. 

Therese grabs the paper bag and rushes back outside.

“What took you so long?” Richard scowls at her. He drops his cigarette below his feet and stamps it on the concrete, nudging Billie gently away from sniffing it.

“Let’s just go, okay?” Therese presses. She waits for Richard to move forward to follow, but something - a strange feeling somewhere deep inside of her - makes her glance back around. There, at the far corner inside the restaurant, is Carol, who weirdly enough, looks like she’s rising up from hiding underneath the table at her booth. Therese understands now. Carol had been hiding from her. _She was hiding under the table from me._ The woman who sits across the booth shakes up in her chair with rambunctious laughter. Therese notices that Carol got a new haircut and how very sophisticated and manish she looks. Through the glass window, Carol says something to her friend and looks fairly embarrassed but content about it. The other woman keeps laughing and takes a look past her shoulder. She tries to spot Therese, but it’s Carol’s eyes that lock on with the girl’s. The two women exchange a brief history and recognition for a moment before Carol blinks her eyes rapidly and turns her head away. A cruel move on her part, but it gives Therese the power to stumble along and finally leave, feeling that same unforgettable pain of a broken heart all over again.

* * *

"So tell me about your ex," Abby says softly, blowing on her fork with chickpea curry and white rice. She watches Carol wrinkle her nose while ripping a sugar packet open for her green tea.

"Do I have to?" Carol whines, but grins as she gets Abby to cover her mouth from laughing out loud. "Well, let's see," Carol takes a dramatic sigh and reaches over to pull a piece of garlic-flavored naan off her plate. "We've dated for about two-and-a-half years. She loves art and photography. I got into food writing. She helped me publish a cookbook in the beginning of my career and then later got me inspired to write my own stuff - thriller, fiction. Living with her felt like a dream come true..." Abby smirks how wistful Carol's eyes become, how breathy her voice sounds. "She was the love of my life. My angel..." she pauses. 

Abby nods and cocks her head. “How did it end then?"

Carol tries to smile, but it's tight and forced. She pulls herself away from her plate and shrugs. "I guess it ended like all relationships do. We were just slowly drifting apart from each other. Our lives became busier with book projects and art shows. It seemed like there was never enough time in the day. She thought I wasn’t giving her enough. I thought I was giving her too much. I dunno. She started flirting more. I started to drink more,” she snorts and shakes her head with dismay. 

Abby smiles sadly. “What’s her name?”

“Therese.” Carol lets out a shaky breath and as soon as she looks over past Abby, her eyes widen with fear and she abruptly swoops down sideways to hide herself underneath the table.

“Carol!” Abby giggles and tries to look under. She laughs at Carol’s performance and falls in love with her immediately.

Carol holds up a finger for Abby to be quiet and when she does, a second or two goes by, and then when she pushes herself back up with her hair in her face, Abby bursts out laughing.

“I dropped something,” Carol swipes a few bangs off her red face, embarrassed.

"You've got to do better than that. Who did you see?” Abby demands.

Carol straightens out her blouse and watches Abby turn her head around to look. She does the same thing and discovers herself staring through the glass window at Therese, who stares back, wide-eyed. A spark of memories of love surge through them now which soon backflips and fills a cloud full of anger, jealousy and fear. Carol rapidly blinks her eyes and turns her head, hoping that she looks calm and casual instead of hurt and guilty. She relaxes and Abby, smiling, keeps asking what had just happened ten seconds ago. As Carol lamely goes on in detail about her ex walking in the Indian restaurant, she can feel Therese’s presence finally leave from the corner of her eye for good.


	5. Chapter 5

Therese purposely ignores the amount of affection Richard tries to give her on their pull-out couch in the living room and just stares blankly at the TV; watching a cheesy car commercial with a smiling family ride off into a perfect, pretty sunset. He leans over her and trails kisses along the side of her temple, cheek, jaw and neck. Richard has work early this morning at a warehouse job for printing products & paint, but before he leaves for the day, he wants to at least get a laugh from Therese by reaching down and tickling her ribcage.

"Stop," she grumbles. She brings her arm back around and shoves him away. He laughs, thinking she's on her period or something instead of being serious.

"Good-bye, I love you..." he sing-songs and kisses her again on the forehead. "If Dannie stops by later, tell him I left his stuff next to the bag of flour!" 

"Yup." Therese doesn't move from her lying position on her stomach. She glances over to see Billie on the carpet floor gnawing on one of her baseball caps. It was an old Yankees one she wore a couple of outings back in the days with Carol. The cap is practically ruined. _Good_. Seeing the puppy biting and drooling all over it doesn't seem to bother her one bit.

Richard mentions another thing to her, but she doesn't quite catch it and doesn't really care. As soon as he slams the door shut on his way out, she finally unfolds her legs and gets up from the couch. Therese shuffles into the kitchen wearing just her lacy panties and a dark green oversized t-shirt. She pulls the fridge door and takes out a small jug of chocolate milk. She unscrews the cap and takes a generous sip. Then she grabs a paper cup from the top shelf inside one of the cabinets and scoops out some Cocoa Puffs out of the box until it fills to the brim. That is her breakfast - chocolate milk with chocolate cereal. She dumps the chocolate flavored puffs into her mouth before watering it down with milk. The cereal box is almost empty and what's left inside, Therese pours out the rest of the sugary stuff inside Billie's food dish.

Instead of heading back to the living room, she makes her way to the bedroom. Clothes belonging to both her and Richard from last night's typical lovemaking are strewn all over the floor. Therese takes a minute to look around and the room is a complete mess. There's empty beer bottles lined up along the nightstand and wrappers of cake snacks everywhere on the dresser table. She sees a few of her framed black-and-white photographs resting up against the walls. One purple bra dangles off from one corner. Ashamed at herself and a little disgusted, Therese steps over and snatches the dirty underwear. She hasn't taken a photograph for months and has pulled herself away from any upcoming art shows.

Therese finds herself walking to the closet and takes out a rectangular tin box she kept hidden deep inside the back next to a cardboard box of winter clothes. Therese carries the metal object and sits down on the edge of the bed. She removes the lid off the box and finds piles and piles of Polaroid snapshots of Carol. Her angelic, soft face and piercing grey-blue eyes tightens Therese's throat and burns her face. Thinking about her ex and what she did back inside the Indian restaurant was childish and mean. Un-Carol-like at all. _She acted like she never met me before, like I was a complete stranger to her,_ Therese thinks, scowling again, feeling her heart pulse rapidly through her chest. _And that woman who sat across from her. She kept laughing and laughing..._ Without thinking, Therese picks up a few photos and rips them in half. She crumples some and takes a Sharpie to scribble and doodle on a few of them. She lets out a good frustration cry and sniffles happily once an idea hits her towards the end. She has the sudden urge to send those old photos straight to Carol's apartment. She wants Carol to find them and see how much damage she really caused on their relationship.

Therese dumps the photos onto the bed and begins to search for a Manila folder. She grabs one from Richard's paperwork on the lounge chair and slides all the ripped, crumpled, permanent marker inked polaroids inside the envelope. She needs to get stamps, but she can grab them on her way to the mailbox. Hopefully by the time Carol gets her gift, her new lady friend will see the pictures too and know that Therese Belivet is not the type of person to make a fool of.


	6. Chapter 6

“Need this?” Abby holds up the bottle of suntan lotion in the parking lot a few feet away from the farmer’s market.

“No, I'm fine,” Carol says, waving her hand. She stands there in a lemon-and-blue scoop neck top, white capris, splatter-paint Keds, and a khaki Mojave sun hat perched on top of her ear-length blond head.

“O-kay, Miss Glory Sunshine. Don’t come crying to me when you end up like a ripe tomato,” Abby snorts, and begins spraying herself all over her arms and legs. She looks just as magnificent in a lilac and cream design summer dress with a pair of slip-on wedge sandals. Her light blond bangs are braided and clipped back along the sides of her face.

“We won’t be out here for long, so there’s nothing to worry about,” Carol grins, holding her navy blue canvas bag around one wrist. Abby finishes up rubbing lotion on her and moves along with her friend to walk. They cross the street together with no cars approaching and make it to the entrance of the farmer’s market. 

Mobs of people - families, couples, dog walkers, baby strollers, scatter all over the different vendors selling fresh meat, fruits, vegetables, dairy, and bread. Some of them sell baked goods like cookies, doughnuts and muffins. Others have containers filled with warm, delicious soups, salsa and homemade sweet and spicy jellies.

Abby takes a cracker from the sample plate at one vendor and dips the buttery tip with a small dose of apple jelly. She bites, chews and swallows, falling in love with the cool refreshing taste. Carol quickly reaches over and wants to try something. She takes a cracker and dips some blackberry jelly on hers. The woman who runs the vendor, beams and offers more of the homemade spreads. Abby wants all of them. Carol agrees and buys four homemade jelly jars - apple, strawberry, peach, and blackberry.

“You’re sharing all of them with me,” Abby says firmly, making Carol laugh while they hook their arms together and walk on.

They pick up two loafs of bread, a variation of bell peppers, twelve stalks of yellow corn, and zucchini. Carol has the idea of making some sauteed yellow squash and zucchini for dinner tonight and obliging invites Abby over.

After spending a half hour at the farmer’s market, the women make it back to Carol’s apartment. She carries her mail inside and drops it on the table. Abby places the groceries on the kitchen counter and looks around admiringly. She stands in front of the fridge and smiles at the pictures of Carol and a little girl no more than six. “Is this Rindy?” she knows the daughter’s name after a long conversation during their first unknown date at the Indian restaurant. Abby slides off a plastic ladybug and removes the photo. It shows Carol on a swing with Rindy laughing on her lap.

“Yes, that’s my girl,” Carol says, happily. She turns her head back to the mail on the table and goes through it. Bills, bills, pharmacy catalogs, gym membership letters… Her eyes narrow at a manila envelope with a messy pen scrawl of her name. Looking at the sender and address on the right corner, her mouth twitches. _Therese_.

“So Rindy’s stuck in Florida with her dad, huh?” Abby places the photo back on the fridge and turns around to face Carol. She sees a manila folder in her hands. Carol pulls something out then quickly shoves it back inside.

“Goddamn you,” Carol mutters under her breath. She drops the folder on the floor below her feet and holds her face with her hands.

“Carol, what is it? What’s wrong?” Abby comes over and takes a look down at the envelope. She finds herself down on her knees, dumping the contents out on the floor. She sees crushed, ripped, scribbled Polaroids of Carol Aird and another woman - a mousy, dark-haired girl, with such serious eyes, they could burn holes through walls. Abby frowns and studies a crumpled picture of Carol holding the girl - much older than Rindy, but young enough to still be in school. It doesn’t take her long to realize the girl in the picture is Therese. Carol’s ex.

“My god, did she send you these, Carol?” Abby cries now, upset. She can feel the stress level go up on the blonde, who looks like she’s just about had it. She’s crying and shaking at the same time.

“No matter how hard I try,” Carol starts in a low, stiff voice. “How much I try to move on… She’s always there!”

“Therese.” Saying her name sounded so foreign, so forbidden. Abby wants to clean her mouth with soap. She shakes her head and says, “She’s mental, I mean, who the fuck does this kind of shit?”

Carol stifles out a laugh. A bitter, weak laugh. “I guess it’s her own way of telling me that she still loves me, right?”

Abby stares up at her before breaking into a smile. Carol laughs harder now over the silly, immature of it all and she cries at the same time, but with joy. She is no longer hurt by Therese’s actions, because she’s done with it. She no longer cares! Carol, red in the face, bubbles up with loud, uneven laughter that makes Abby laugh along, too. If Carol is happy, then Abby is happy too. She picks herself up off the floor and gives the poor woman a warm, loving embrace.

“Ouch! Careful, darling,” Carol mutters, pulling herself back from Abby as Abby clings onto her waist. She lifts a part of her top and sees her skin sheer pink. Sunburn.

“What did I tell you?” Abby giggles, rubbing their noses together. “Ripe as a tomato!”


	7. Chapter 7

Abby gently strokes Carol's arm and tells her that she can stop at the nearest drugstore to go pick up some aloe vera gel for her burn. 

"You don't have to go and do that!" Carol exclaims, laughing.

"I _want_ to," Abby insists. She grins, tracing her fingers along the edge of the blonde's sunburnt elbow. "You can start dinner while I go out and pick up your medicine..." she drops her hand and leaves with her dress swishing between her legs and Carol stubbornly calling out, "Medicine? What for? I'm not sick!" 

The apartment door opens and then closes shut for a final response. Carol closes her eyes briefly and takes a deep breath to calm down her nerves. Therese's white, porcelain face and those piercing green eyes flash through her mind and swim around her brain in fast currents making her head hurt. She quickly shakes her ex-lover off and heads upstairs to change out of her sweaty clothes.

In a sports bra and denim overalls, Carol switches on the air conditioner and takes a few minutes to clean up the kitchen area before starting to cook dinner. She puts away the groceries and saves the plastic bags for wastebasket use for the upstairs bathroom. She then dumps any leftover sips of wine from their bottles and recycles the glass with the pieces of cardboard. While she cuts up pieces of yellow squash and zucchini, her cell phone vibrates inside one of her side pockets. Carol pulls the device out and sees that her mother-in-law is calling.

"Hey Jen," Carol greets, pinning the phone against one shoulder. "How's everything? How's Rindy?"

"Fine. She's doing fine right now, Carol," Jennifer Aird speaks from the other line. "I just took her out shopping for new school clothes..."

Carol snorts while dropping some chunks of squash into a ceramic bowl. "It's still summer, Jen. Rindy has another two more weeks to enjoy her holiday break before even thinking about-"

"She wants to see you, Carol," Jennifer cuts off. "She had an unpleasant episode with me and her grandfather this afternoon while we were in line getting ice cream..."

"Episode?" Carol frowns. "What does that mean? I don't understand."

"Your daughter threw a tantrum right in the middle of the ice cream store!" Jennifer blurts out. "Kicking and screaming for her mother... 'I want my Mommy! I miss my Mommy!'"

"Rindy would never behave like that," Carol replies. "She knows better!"

"Does she?" Jennifer sighs. "It's gotten worse for her down here. Harge doesn't seem to care. Almost every night he's out playing billiards or going out to parties. He comes home smelling like some cheap whorehouse!"

 _It sucks, doesn't it?_ Carol thinks. _Thinking you know somebody for so long until one day you take a real good look at them and they become a total stranger._

"Hello? Carol? HELLO!" Jennifer shouts in her ear.

"I'm here, Jen," Carol winces from the shrill and grabs ahold of the phone. "Harge's behavior is totally unacceptable, but he is a grown man who can do whatever he wants and I can't be the one to stop him. I'm not his babysitter. As for Rindy, let me talk to her... Where is she?"

"She's swimming in the pool with a friend she met next door. Oh Carol, come down to Florida and see her! She needs you! We all do! The family is falling apart!" Jennifer wails. 

Carol opens her mouth to answer, but then sees a green bottle of aloe vera place beside her on top of the counter. She turns up to find Abby grinning at her and greeting her cheek with a soft brush on the lips. This gesture makes Carol weak in the knees and lightheaded for a second. She forgets that she is still talking to her mother-in-law on the phone and cooking dinner at the same time. 

"L-let me call you right back, okay Jennifer? I'm actually in the middle of making dinner and I have company over so," Carol rambles and quickly pulls her phone out and hangs up.

"Who's Jennifer?" Abby asks, reaching out to take the wooden spoon from Carol to stir up the vegetables with the oil and seasoning.

"My mother-in-law. She's having some kind of a meltdown in Florida..." Carol moves over to grab the bag of potatoes and starts chopping them up into small pieces on the cutting board. "Thank you for the aloe, by the way."

"It should help the skin." Abby pauses and smirks into the bowl. "Meltdown, huh? Poor thing."

"It turns out my daughter threw a tantrum at her grandparents today while getting ice cream." Carol scoops up the potato chunks and adds them to the bowl. She then heads over to the sink to grab the clean frying pan out of the dish rack. "Rindy never does that! Not even when she was in diapers! She was always such a good girl, my little lady..." 

"She probably misses her mother," Abby speaks softly. "Think about it. From the way you've told me about Harge, would you spend your entire summer with him?"

"Goodness, no," Carol shivers. Together they hold the bowl as they dump the vegetables and potatoes onto the pan that sets on one of the stove tops. They add butter and take turns shifting the pan from side-to-side, swirling the spoon around to mix the food in. Carol mentions to Abby how Jennifer wanted her to go to Florida so badly.

"You should go," Abby nods. "Take a week away from your book and spend time with your daughter."

Carol chuckles. "A writer never leaves her story behind! I'm taking my laptop with me. Who knows how much inspiration I could get while sitting under a palm tree?"

Abby laughs and stares at the sizzling food. She twists the temperature down slightly and shrugs. "Are you sure? I could always reread and edit some things-"

"Nice try, honey, but you're not reading any parts of the sequel yet!" Carol says sharply. Abby rolls her eyes and mumbles it was worth a shot. Carol playfully hip-bumps her and soon the two of them serve themselves dinner once it's all done and ready and retreat into the living room.

They sit together on the plush couch with their knees folded and plates resting on top of them as tables. Abby compliments how delicious and refreshing the food is. Carol rolls her tongue across her teeth and craves for some red wine. It turns out that she had dumped all of her stash earlier before to end her addiction, but Abby the mind reader, quickly sets her plate aside and grabs wine glasses and a brown bag from the kitchen and pulls out a full bottle of pink barefoot.

"I didn't just get you the aloe vera gel, silly," Abby says, giggling.

"You devil," Carol smirks. Seeing the pretty drink tonight sends her thirst for liquor into hyperdrive and she almost spills her plate as she quickly sits up eagerly on the couch. She watches Abby pour her a glass and hold it out. 

"Now before you drink, I would like to propose a toast!" Abby sets the bottle down on the coffee table and brings herself back on a fetal position on the couch with her own glass of wine.

"A toast?" Carol clicks her tongue. Her lips are just inches away from her cup.

"To new beginnings and long-lasting friendships!" Abby announces. She holds her glass out. Carol smiles and clicks their rims together. She takes a sip, enjoying every bit of the bittersweet taste of alcohol hit her throat. She's back to her drinking without realizing it, but tonight it doesn't bother her, because she feels so good again, and hasn't been for a long, long time.


	8. Chapter 8

The hanging houseplant in front of the kitchen window droops gloomily with curling, dead brown leaves and lifeless, bone-dry roots. Therese lifts up the plant's plastic hook off the small hemp noose nailed to the ceiling and carries it to set it down on the small round table where Dannie McElroy, both her and Richard's friend, sits on one of the red metal chairs with a plastic bag of weed, glass pipe and a solid orange Bic lighter clutched in one grubby hand. He watches the young woman walk back over to the sink and fill a dirty coffee mug with tap water. She then brings the mug to the plant and purses her lips.

"Don't you ever water that thing?" Dannie snorts, feeling high and nonchalant on life and everything about it.

"It comes back more than once," Therese says, defensively. She tips the mug and pours the water all over the wilted leaves. In truth, the plant had only come back to life just once and that was probably four months ago when she bought it and forgot to water it for two days. Therese changes the subject and makes a comment about Dannie not showing up yesterday like he was suppose to.

"Yeah, so? Sue me." He smiles and laughs when she flicks remaining water at his face. She picks up the plant and carries it back to the window, dropping the mug into the sink.

It's another day, another morning with Richard gone working at the warehouse for the next 7 hours. Therese has managed to shower, take Billie for a walk, and clean up the house a little bit before Dannie's arrival. He has come for his stuff that was hidden behind the bag of flour that he let's Richard - and Therese occasionally - use to smoke and get high. Dannie has become a true pothead, but unlike his brother, Phil, he's become lazy and unemployed. Richard has offered him countless of times to work at his job at the warehouse. Dannie would laugh at the idea and say no, because he finds his own sluggish lifestyle quite easy and comfortable.

Therese pulls out a chair at the table and sits down across from Dannie to join him. Both of them each take turns packing the bowl and then smoking out of the clear Borosilicate glass pipe that actually belongs to the older McElroy brother, but with Phil's top rated success as a clay sculptor and raising a new family of his own, a missing smoke pipe from his sock drawer is the least of his problems.

"Phil wanted me to give you this." Dannie reaches inside his jean pocket and pulls out a crumpled pink flyer. Smoothing out the wrinkles and straightening out the creases, he eventually hands the paper over.

Therese pulls the flyer closer to her face with two fingers, looks down at it, and then shoves it aside with a scowl. "I don't want to take no stinking art class..." she lowers her head letting her shoulder-length hair fall down around her face like a stringy curtain.

Dannie chuckles. "I knew you'd say that. I even told Phil so. But he wants you to go back doing things."

 _What does that even mean?!_ Therese wants to screech out, but she knows. She knows deep down for the past few months of smoking pot and living off of Richard's paycheck with takeout food and groceries with the TV blaring out reruns of MAURY every day of the week is not really doing anything but doing nothing if that.

"The classes are not that long. You pick one out of three sessions that run four hours in between," Dannie explains, reaching for the flyer to doublecheck again. 

"I said, no, Dannie. I'm not going," Therese snaps. She cranes her neck to see Billie padding over into the kitchen now, whining to go out again. She stops and looks up at her mother with her blue eyes accusingly. Billie gives out one startle yip and pants.

"Who's going to watch Billie if I take one of those classes?" she hears herself question. "Richard doesn't get out of work until 5."

"I can watch her for you, no problem..." Dannie pats his knees for the puppy to gallop over and throw her front paws onto his lap. Billie claws his legs with her nails, desperate for the outdoors.

Therese reconsiders for a moment. Maybe getting out of the house for a couple of hours drawing on a sketch pad with no dog, no boyfriend, is a good idea. She will finally be able to do her own thing without having any responsibilities get in her way.

"Where is this place again?" Therese, red-eyed and stoned, leans over and snatches the flyer from Dannie. The art studio is on the lower east side of town. Not too far from where she is now.  
"It says I have to sign up before joining. And that all three art sessions are free with no cost!" She blows a raspberry with her lips and drops the paper below her.

"What are you still doing here? GO!" Dannie roars and waves a hand for her to move it. Grinning, Therese picks herself up and finds herself slipping on her pair of red foam rubber flip flops and taking her exit out of her apartment with her puppy barking after her. She steps out into the bright, warm summer sunshine and moves her feet forward along the sidewalk, feeling so much better and more cheerful and relaxed; knowing that the weed has taken its toll on her and that she's completely high as a kite now.

People look at her as they pass her by, but she doesn't care for their blank stares or grim facial expressions. She, herself, personally can't stop smiling with her lips pull out into this charming, wide-tooth smile which stays like that as if they wore two invisible elastic strings. Therese feels so high for the world right now. She almost breaks into song.


	9. Chapter 9

The studio stands on one corner of Baker Street and it's a very small, rundown building with a slanted roof. Therese squeezes a brass metal latch and pulls the door open. She steps inside a pink-carpeting entryway and notices a sign taped to a wall that reads in black print **Art Class sign-ups are located upstairs!** Therese holds onto the wooden banister and moves her way up the hot, stuffy hallway steps into a cooler, much more spacious wide room with ceramic tile flooring and clay brick walls. 

Two men and a woman stand in front of a white, rectangular table holding pens in their hands, bent over with their backs facing forward; signing their signatures down. Another woman dressed in a billowy-waisted canary yellow blouse and maroon skirt with chunky heels approaches Therese with a tight-lipped, fierce-looking expression. She wears her thick dark hair back in a solid headband with a pair of bright red glasses perched neatly on the bridge of her nose. She stops in front of Therese crossing her arms together. 

"You here for the art class sign-ups?" the woman speaks in a scratchy, Boston accent. 

"Yeah, this is Baker Street, right?" for some reason the word 'baker' really amuses Therese and she spills over laughing.

"If you're only here to waste my time, you can do that somewhere else," the woman says, sourly.

"I-I'm sorry," Therese stammers.

The woman takes a moment to examine Therese - how red and watery the girl's eyes look with her windswept hair and wobbly pose. 

"What's your name?"

"Belivet. Well, Therese..." she now feels like a complete idiot lost in space.

"If I were you, Miss Belivet, I would grab myself a cup of coffee and think long and hard about my life decisions and what's actually good for me..."

"Shush, Roberta. The only thing you're good are making my ears bleed!" giggles the woman from the sign-up table. She comes over grinning directly at Therese and holds her hand out. "Genevieve Cantrell." 

"Therese Belivet." Therese shakes the woman's hand shyly. With her soft brown eyes and wavy dark brown hair pulled loose into a small, sideways ponytail, Therese finds Genevieve to be very cute. An awkwardness lingers over the women now which makes Roberta cough into one cupped hand with Genevieve staring and Therese averting her eyes to the floor.

"Which class are you signing up for?" Genevieve finally asks. "I'm taking Sketching."

"That's Class 103," Roberta recites. She now gets similar glares from both girls until it makes her wary and quickly leaves to greet more people coming in.

"That's Roberta Walls for you," Genevieve chuckles.

"Is she always so annoying?" Therese grumbles. Genevieve follows her to the table and watches her pick up one of the pens. 

"Oh sure. And the worse part is that she's going to be the one running these art classes," Genevieve explains.

"Shoot me now," Therese mumbles. She bends over and scrawls her name right underneath Genevieve's in Sketching. "I should probably go..." she pulls up her fallen silk bra strap that dangles over her shoulder underneath her Ray Charles shirt.

"Guess I'll see you tomorrow then?" Genevieve smiles. "Three o'clock?" 

"Yeah, I guess so," Therese finds herself smiling back - only this time genuine and normal now. Her stomach growls with hunger and Genevieve hears it and offers, "Would you like to go grab a bite to eat with me? There's this really tasteful Indian place not too far away from here and-"

"No no, I can't," Therese cuts her off quickly and starts heading for the exit. "I actually have this appointment I need to go to, so I'll see you later. Goodbye!" her hurriness stumbles through Roberta and two college students that cry out in protest and watch after her near the doorway. 

"It was nice to meet you!" Genevieve calls out to her, but by the time she finishes her sentence Therese is already gone.


	10. Chapter 10

Carol drives herself to the airport to catch her evening flight to Florida and thinks back to the hot passionate kiss she had shared with Abby just a few seconds ago inside her ethereal studio apartment...

_Carol stands there and presses a finger to buzz for Abby to open the mechanical door. Her heart pounds wildly inside her chest the second all of the locks click out and the door pulls wide open by itself. Carol steps into an elevator and rides to the 4th floor. Abby opens her own apartment door and pokes her head out the minute Carol emerges from the elevator._

_"Nice of you to drop by," Abby sing-songs. "Will you stay here for the whole night?"_

_"Not tonight, darling. My flight leaves within the next hour or so. I just wanted to make sure I got the chance to say goodbye first," Carol explains. She grins as she lets Abby yank her inside the apartment with the door closing shut behind them. Then Abby steers Carol through an orange beaded curtain that leads to a much smaller room that used to be an old kitchen closet. There's a couple of wooden spice racks lined up against the walls that are filled with jars and jars of healing crystals and homemade essential oils. A round table covered by a galaxy cloth stands at the center with rickety chairs on each side. Carol takes notice of the strange deck of tarot cards stacked in rows of three set neatly facedown across._

_"You ready for a quick reading before you go?" Abby offers._

_"Of course. Tell me what kind of trip I'm going to have," Carol says, sitting herself down on one creaky chair while Abby parks herself on the other. Abby gathers all the cards up and shuffles them a few times making them fly and bend into a small bridge through her hands. She then stops and lays only three cards down below. Carol's eyes focus dead-on the moment Abby flips over the first tarot and draws out The Empress._

_"As soon as you get to your in-laws', I guarantee you they will treat you like an Empress. You have this beauty, this aura about you that attracts them daily. Your family obviously loves you and misses you..." Abby nods._

_Carol sits up straighter in her chair. She waits for the middle card to be drawn. Abby moves onto the second one and flips it over. It shows three swords stabbing through a bleeding heart._

_"The Three Swords," Abby recites. "This card is not that bad actually. It can be good or bad - depending how you look at it..."_

_"What does it mean?" Carol's brows knit close together with concern._

_"Well, let's see. Fresh new beginnings, loss, pain, suffering. You're either done with it or just getting the taste of it..." Abby shrugs. She holds her hand above the third and final card to flip and draw out._

_Carol chews on her bottom lip as she sees a picture of a man's back facing towards her with a walking stick. Eight golden goblets line up below his feet._

_"The Eight of Cups," Abby sighs. "With this card, you seek change and transition. You walk away from everything that disappoints you so far, including love or with material possessions..." she places the card down and reaches for Carol's dominant hand - her right one. Abby turns it upwards and examines the lines and crevices of the blonde's palm. Carol leans forward over the table, curious and somewhat intrigued how Abby's palm readings and tarot card readings are turning out to be really alluring and hot._

_"What do you see?" Carol whispers. "Tell me Harge gets a bad case of food poisoning or something..." she snickers, but Abby barely cracks a smile. She smooths out Carol's hand and taps a finger on one short, straight line that ends between the middle and index finger._

_"This line right here shows me your need for freedom. It tells me that you show your love through actions more than words..." Abby explains. Carol smirks now. And before you know it, the two women find themselves getting out of their chairs; crashing into each other with Abby hooking her arms around Carol's waist; pressing their lips together while she pushes Abby backwards, making a few jars wobble on the shelves lined up against the wall. Carol turns her head slightly and moans pleasantly as Abby kisses harder and pants between shortness of breath while trying to press themselves together tighter, sliding her hands up underneath the back of Carol's smoke gray suit jacket while blindly unzipping the front part of her own pair of navy blue shorts. Carol breaks them apart with a small gasp and curls her fingers over Abby's._

_"Abby... Honey, I can't..." her gravelly voice sounds deeper and different._

_"Damnit, Carol! You really know how to crash a party..." Abby shouts, but she's laughing and lets her new girlfriend cup her burning cheeks so they are now in perfect eye-level._

_"I'm going to miss my flight."_

_"Fuck it. Stay here with me..." Abby, out of breath, leans in and licks Carol's neck playfully with her tongue. Carol gives Abby's bottom a smart slap and tells her she can't do that, but she will be able to call or text almost every single day._

_"You better," Abby huffs. She then leans forward and they kiss one final time before Abby watches Carol make her way through the beaded curtain with her lipstick smeared, blouse twisted and hair spilled over stuck to parts of her hot, sweaty face._

Replaying the entire thing of Abby makes Carol's head spin. She has no idea what the future holds in store for them as a couple. So far, so good. It could stay that way for them hopefully. As she drives on with just three minutes to spare from the terminal, she turns up the radio dial and listens to Creedence Clearwater Revival play along with John Fogerty's screeching voice singing about a cold rain on a sunny day and how there's a calm before a storm.


	11. Chapter 11

Half-asleep, Therese feels movement. Her blue Frenchie bulldog puppy marches her way through the thin cream layers of bed-sheets and nose bumps her squarely on the elbow. Therese picks her head up and scratches Billie behind her wide, bat ears. "Let's take you out," she yawns in between. Billie whines, sniffles her wrist, and then sneezes.

Wearing a baggy sweatshirt and green plaid pajama bottoms, Therese opens her apartment door with an unlit cigarette hanging out of her mouth. She lets the puppy waddle outside with the leash still attached on; to sniff around and find a spot to go. It's 10 o'clock in the morning. Richard has left for work half an hour ago. With cloudy gray skies and surprisingly cool temperatures for the mid-to-late summer season, Therese can actually relate to the gloomy weather and feel completely at peace with it.

In just five hours she will be on her way to her art class. Therese pulls out her lighter and flicks it a couple of times to flame. She thinks about Carol and wonders if the blonde goddess had finally finished that goddamn book of hers or not. Therese inhales and thinks back to the years they were together. Both of them were so happy, so in love, that it almost felt like they were two princesses in a fairy tale. Therese snorts as she remembers how nervous she becomes whenever she's near Carol's presence. The older woman has such a power with those steely gray-blue eyes and that deep, husky voice... Just thinking of all the times she stammered her words or tripped on her own two feet, embarrasses Therese to the extreme. _But now she's gone in love with somebody else,_ Therese concludes in her mind. _That bubbly, laughing woman with the bleached, wavy hair and those big brown eyes..._

Billie squats down on the sidewalk and pees. As soon as she finishes and stands back up, she tugs forward the need to explore more, but Therese won't have any of it. They have to go back inside, so she can clean up more of the apartment and get ready for the day. 

Dannie arrives around 2:10 pm with a Snickers bar in his hand. He comes over and plucks Billie off the floor before settling themselves on the couch the moment Therese walks into the living room wearing a purple Whitesnake rock band T-shirt and smoky-gray-color skinny jeans. Dannie takes one good look at her and whistles at her shiny, brushed out hair and black eyeliner make-up.

"You going on a date or some dinky art class?" he cracks up.

"Art class," Therese smirks. She grabs her house key and wallet off the coffee table and drops them inside a Disney's Alice In Wonderland tote bag she bought at the mall one day. 

"Does Richard know you're doing this today?" Dannie brings the candy close to his mouth and lets Billie lean over and lick some of it.

Therese looks at them in disgust but lets it slide this time. "He doesn't really care. I told him last night and he said it was fine..."

"Was that before or after you guys fucked?" Dannie grins.

Therese scowls at him and storms away. She can still hear Dannie's laughter as she closes and locks the apartment door shut.

* * *

Roberta Walls and one young college student are in the middle of throwing a tablecloth over a long, rectangular table the minute Therese arrives at the studio on Baker Street. Three other people - including the friendly cute Genevieve Cantrell - are sitting on stools with their drawing-sketch pad books propped neatly on top of music stands. Therese catches Genevieve waving to her from across the room. Smiling, Therese clutches the strap of her tote bag and makes her way over to join the others.

"Wow," Genevieve greets, and watches Therese drop her tote bag on the floor before sitting on an empty stool beside her.

"What?" Therese looks over and notices that Gen has her eyes on _her._

"You look great," Genevieve shrugs. "White-snake? Never heard of them."

Therese blushes and begins to explain the band's commercial success in the late 70's. As she talks about the style of music and the band's lead vocalist David Coverdale, she notices the twinkle in Genevieve's eyes and how those rosy pink lips of hers keep spreading into a wide, glamorous smile. Just as the conversation gets more interesting about one of the band's albums cover of a naked woman straddling a large snake, Roberta appears and sets a music stand in front of Therese before slapping a fresh new drawing-sketch pad book on top.

"Sorry to interrupt you, Miss Belivet, but my class is starting now," Roberta says stiffly, before walking back towards the rectangular cloth table at the center of the room. Genevieve giggles once Therese wrinkles her nose up in response. "This is Class 103, Sketching," Roberta begins. "There's nothing behind the title. It just makes it easier for me to separate from the other two classes, which are Painting and Metal Jewelry..." she steps around the table and pulls something out from underneath. It's a bowl of fruit. Three apples. Two pears. Four bananas. One orange. "Now since this is Day 1, we're going to start small. I want all of you to sketch this bowl of fruit..."

"Are you kidding me?" snorts one of the students. He gets a few more groans along with him.

"Yes, I know it's boring and easy," Roberta mockingly drapes the side of her face with her hand. "But sometimes, ladies and gentlemen, we encounter boring, easy things in our lives-"

"Like this class," Therese mutters. Genevieve snickers beside her using the back of her hand.

" _Ladies,_ " Roberta snarls. "Is there something funny you would like to share over there? Miss Belivet?"

"No ma'am," Therese replies.

"Keep going, Roberta," Genevieve agrees.

Roberta rolls her eyes behind her red spectacles and grabs the box of pencils stored away inside her bag on the chair at the table. She carries them and passes one to each of the five students. When she gets to Miss Cantrell and Miss Belivet, she frowns at them and holds a pencil high out of reach.

"Are we going to have any more trouble with you, Miss Belivet?" her scratchy voice is tight with annoyance.

Therese shakes her head and reaches out for her pencil. Roberta childishly pulls it away before finally giving it to her.


	12. Chapter 12

All she can smell on the plane is baby powder. It's a distinctive kind of scent that she's all too familiar with especially during the years of breastfeeding Rindy, changing her diapers, and giving her all those bubble baths from head-to-toe. Carol opens her eyes from a brief snooze to find herself sitting on the window seat with her wireless computer left wide open on her lap. The gentleman that sits beside her on the aisle seat, holds up his baby grandson in two, liver-spotted hands.

"So precious! What's his name?" Carol leans over and gives the baby's curled fist a friendly shake. He looks to be around 9-months-old; dressed in a pair of green corduroy overalls and white T-shirt with tiny aircrafts and helicopters printed all over it.

"This is Baxter," says the gentleman. He smiles downwards to his youngest grandchild of eight and watches him stare on with these enormous gold-brown eyes. "Say 'hi' to the pretty lady, Baxter..."

"Aye," the baby responds, and stuffs one fist inside his mouth.

"Hello, beautiful," Carol speaks back in a soft, baby voice. "You are probably the most sweetest, cutest thing I've seen today!"

Baxter keeps staring at her and bats his pair of long eyelashes.

"He's a good boy," the gentleman says. "Me and my wife's favorite out of the bunch..."

"He's adorable," Carol agrees.

"What about you? Got any of your own?"

"I have one daughter," Carol explains. She pulls her cellphone out from her suit jacket pocket and reveals the lockscreen of a picture of Rindy sitting on a wagon holding a pumpkin with bales of hay stacked behind her in a harvest background.

"Oh, she's very cute," the gentleman nods.

"Yeah, that's my baby. My Rindy," Carol gushes. She pulls her phone back to admire the photo some more. "I'm actually on my way to see her..."

"Rindy doesn't live with you?"

"No, unfortunately. She's staying with her grandparents at their beach house for the summer, but then she lives with her dad for the rest of the year. I get to have her on her birthday and during Christmastime. That was the deal we made." Carol clears her throat and slips her cellphone back inside her pocket.

"Divorce can be such a burden," the gentleman sighs.

"So can Marriage," Carol smirks. She holds up her fingers to show no wedding rings but simple, silvery stone ones instead. The old man laughs and turns his attention back to his grandson. Carol pulls her phone out and makes a brief call to her in-laws. John Aird answers after the third ring. He sounds formal, like usual, and there's not even a bit of gladness in him when he learns that his son's ex-wife is only ten minutes away from the Southwest International Airport to come over and spend a week in Florida.

"I'll be sure to tell Jennifer," he says politely.

"Great! Try not to spoil the surprise for Rindy, okay John?" Carol tells him on the phone. "Thank you so much! I can't wait to see her!"

"Yes. Very well," John replies. "See you soon, Carol..."

"Bye, bye!"

Smiling, she hangs up and double checks to see if her editor has text her back on his thoughts about the two latest chapters she had just written for him last night. From the looks of it, Todd has not text back yet. It was just a little over an hour ago that she emailed him and sent the rough drafts of the 29 pages through her Dell computer. _He's probably still reading the first page!_ Carol snorts. She looks out the oval-shaped glass window and drums her fingers on the vinyl armrest of her chair, feeling rather anxious and hyper to board off and go see her munchkin.

Ten minutes later as Carol waves goodbye to Baxter and his grandfather while they head off in different directions, she presses and pulls the handle of her purple suitcase to drag it along through the terminal; joining the rest of all the busy, eager traveling passengers that zoom in and out of glass doors with their luggage, shopping bags, baby strollers and service dogs on leashes. All the waiting chairs and even trash bins are packed with people. Almost bumping into a janitor pushing a barrel with cleaning supplies, Carol quickly apologizes and tries to find the nearest smoothie bar. 

As she stands in line with her canvas bag hung around her wrist and suitcase parked beside her, she hears her phone going off. Hoping that's Todd, she yanks out the cellular device and sees an unknown number with a text message that says: **Look behind you**

Carol looks up and turns around to find her ex-husband standing just a foot away from her in a blue J. Crew shirt and khaki trousers. He looks casual, she decides, but nothing more. There are no more sparks between them since their marriage, but even since then she still felt like she was playing a role of somebody she was not.

"Harge... Hello," she greets him with uncertainty. He gives her a smile like he just ate a piece of rotten tomato and they both hold their arms out and hesitate to move - not sure wether to hug or not. They do. But it's more like a pat on the back, and he kisses her on the cheek like they are brother-and-sister rather than ex-lovers. Harge gives her a once over look and scratches his nose.

"You cut your hair." This is not a question, but a fact. Just the way he says it you can tell that he doesn't really like it.

"I did," Carol says slowly. She waits for more obvious truths. 

"I'm suppose to pick you up," he says now, awkwardly. He looks away and reaches for the handle of her suitcase to carry it out for her. She wants to decline the small gesture, but decides against it. Maybe letting him do something rather than just standing around full of nerves would do him a bit of good and make him less stiff and uncomfortable.

They don't say much in the car on their way to the beach house. Carol leans sideways with her elbow on the open window console, fingers brushing along her lips, thinking about this week away from home in New York and thoughts on Rindy. Harge keeps his eyes on the road with both hands on the steering wheel with a blank expression. Unlike his ex-wife, he has kept and wears his wedding ring. Probably in the hopes of still believing that someday the woman he fell in love with and married six years ago, will finally snap out of her long lasting desire for women and come back to him, back to his arms.

The beach house looks smaller than she remembers it. The front deck and porch swing still look the same as they did before. While Harge parks them in the driveway and turns the engine off, Carol unbuckles her seat belt and spots Rindy sitting beside her grandmother at a wooden lemonade stand across the front manicured lawn. Their backs are facing towards her with styrofoam cups and bags of ice laid out beside them. Carol grins as she pulls out her car door open and leaves Harge and her belongings in the car, to go meet up and reunite with her daughter. 

"Nobody wants lemonade, Grandma," Rindy says somberly. She grabs the plastic spoon and swirls the powdered sugar around inside a paper cup.

"I had one, and you had one, remember?" Jennifer asks, reaching over to pat the girl's hand.

"That doesn't count!" Rindy exclaims.

"I'll have a lemonade, sweetheart," Carol says when she stands close enough and watches both Rindy and Jennifer turn around and look up wearing matching solar eclipse glasses.

" _Mommmy!_ " Rindy cries, and with wild excitement, she hops off her step stool and plows into Carol's midriff. Laughing, Carol bends over and scoops Rindy up, kissing her face and swinging her from side-to-side. Rindy wraps her arms around her mother's neck and buries her face onto Carol's collarbone. Rindy weighs heavier than usual and smells a mixture of hot sun, lemonade juice and sweat. Her hair looks darker and longer as she wears it down today. Knowing she's safe and alright pleases Carol to the fullest, and there she sheds a few happy tears.

"My lovely little girl... Look how big you've grown! Are those solar eclipse glasses? Did you get a chance to watch the sun with Grandma today?" Carol speaks between noisy, wet kisses, making Rindy giggle uncontrollably. 

"Yeah! We saw the sun behind the moon! In the sky!" Rindy explains. She pulls her glasses off and holds some of her mother's short hair. 

Jennifer beats her granddaughter to it and demands, "What on earth happened to your hair, Carol?" 

"I had to cut it," Carol says, rubbing noses with Rindy now. "It was much too hot with all of it on..." she carries her daughter around to the wooden lemonade stand and drops two quarters in the coin jar before helping herself with a cup of the sweet yellow juice.

"For godsakes, Carol!" Jennifer starts, but she's too upset to finish. She watches the blonde grin behind the rim of her cup as she sips and then holds it out for Rindy to drink some of it.


	13. Chapter 13

"Miss Belivet..." the sound of Roberta's nasally voice makes her want to snap her No.2 pencil in half and call it quits. She seems to be the only one in the class who's doing something wrong that has to bring everyone's attention. On this particular late August afternoon, she's having trouble drawing her practice piece and just stares at her large, canvas sheet of paper. Therese sits there on top of her wooden stool with her sketch book out in front of her, holding her pencil in mid-air for the past five minutes or so.

"Miss Belivet, c'mon. What are we doing?" Roberta approaches her and stands beside her, arms crossed. A tiresome sigh comes out of her and continues, "Don't overthink your practice piece - you can draw anything you want. The idea is to put something on paper..."

"I know that," Therese mumbles. She turns her head towards the left to see what her new friend is drawing. Genevieve is in full focus of sketching what looks like to be a pair of old, leather work boots.

"It's really not that difficult, Miss Belivet. Draw something! A dog, a book, a tree... It can be anything! You've only got a few more minutes left until I start the next lesson..." Roberta finally leaves her alone to go check out the other practice pieces by the rest of the students. 

"Why does she hate me so much?" Therese sighs, placing her pencil down below on her music stand.

"It's not hate, but admiration," Genevieve replies, shading the tip of the right leather boot to give it some shadow.

Therese snorts. "I think you're confused by the definitions of the two..." she picks up her pencil again and draws a plain, simple square. The square has a shape of a circle in the center with a smaller one forming inside of it. Therese soon finds herself drawing a Nixon camera, unintentionally.

"I want everyone's pencils down, so we can start the next thing, please..." Roberta instructs, standing at the center of the room. By the looks of it, there are now seven students sitting around her with their sketch books on top of music stands. Therese feels a tightness in the back of her throat. She looks down at her camera drawing and has the sudden urge to tear it out and ball it into the wastebasket. What stops her is the fact that Genevieve kindly compliments the sketch, whispering how realistically good it looks. Therese thanks her and leaves the drawing alone. She doesn't move a muscle and remains quiet.

"Okay. We're going right into the art modeling now," Roberta says, cupping her elbows with both hands. "I want us to practice drawing the human form with no attire..." she waits for the giggles and chittering to stop before speaking again. "I'll need one volunteer to come up here and pose nude for 20-30 minutes. We're all adults in here, so we can all agree that exposing the human body shouldn't be an issue. Any questions?" Roberta pauses and sees a hand raised by a light skinned girl with beads in her hair. "Yes?"

"What if we are, like, uncomfortable drawing uh, the body parts?" she makes a face like she has smelled something foul. 

"It's a challenge for you to find a way to make it comfortable," Roberta responds. "Now. Who wants to volunteer? The bathroom is right outside the room in the hallway for you to undress if you can't do it here. You can sit or stand with your own pose while the rest of you draw it out. You shouldn't be ogling anywhere but on your paper..."

Therese doesn't see anyone raise their hand to volunteer yet. She certainly isn't going to do it. Nope. No way! How embarrassing!

"Thank you, Miss Cantrell," Roberta speaks up again as soon as she spots Genevieve with her hand held high. "You can use the bathroom to undress if you wish..."

"What's the point? You'll still see me naked no matter what!" Genevieve retorts as she gets down from her wooden stool and begins to undress herself. A few people begin to snicker and whistle as Gen pulls off her silk blouse and wiggles out of her teal skirt. Therese's mouth hangs slightly ajar as she sees how pale and smooth Genevieve's skin appears to be with small, pointy breasts (like hers) and a bouncy, round ass.

The boys can't stop whistling while the girls blush profusely and look away. Therese keeps her eyes on Genevieve as she walks towards the center of the room. The wavy-haired girl stops and poses with her hands cupping her abdomen and one leg folded like a human figure 4. While she stands very still (her eyes directly on Therese) Roberta barks for everyone to begin to draw. Therese shifts on her stool and touches the roof of her mouth with her sandpaper-like tongue. She feels an unexpected dampness along the lining of her underwear inside her pair of shorts. Genevieve has purposely positioned herself in front of Therese Belivet, so that way she can have a clear view of her to sketch out the pose the best.

Therese has a hard time keeping her pencil from fumbling on the paper as her hand is shaking so much, for she can feel Gen's eyes burning into hers for the rest of the class.


	14. Chapter 14

The Airds' guest room for Carol is located at the far end of the house with a perfect view of the large outdoor deck and nine-foot-deep swimming pool. There's a small office desk for her laptop in one corner and her own personal fitness treadmill machine in the other. At the center of the room lays a queen size bed with a cream-and-brown colored comforter set of miniature summer seashells printed all over it. 

"I do apologize for the clutter in here," Jennifer Aird tells Carol as she stands there and watches her daughter-in-law slide a pile of clean folded shirts inside the top drawer of her sandalwood material dresser.

"Everything looks well in order and kept together in its proper place, Jen. Thank you," Carol nods. She holds onto the two metal bronze knobs of the drawer and pushes forward to close it shut. 

"Yes. Well, dinner should be ready for another ten minutes or so..." Jennifer pauses for a long minute and glances over to the window where she sees Rindy balancing on a pink noodle in her bathing suit in the pool. Her grandfather, who is suppose to be watching her, lays flat on his back and snoozes away on one of the wooden deck chairs with a newspaper sprawled over his head. Jennifer clears her throat and adds, "It's nice to have you here, Carol..." there's something that's a little off in the sound of her voice that Carol detects but doesn't bother to make a note of it. She only smiles and waits for the high-strung woman to leave. When Jen does, Carol pulls her phone out and dials her agent's number.

"Hullo?" Todd speaks. Faint clinking sounds of glass and laughter is being heard in the background. 

"Todd! What the hell!" Carol snaps, noticing the bedroom door is still wide open, so she quickly moves towards it and closes it shut. 

"Oh, Carol! Hi darling, how are you?" Todd says more pleasant than ever before. Voices and what seems to be a speaker of radio music is muffled between wherever he is.

"Did you read the chapters I've sent you?" Carol demands, gnawing at her thumbnail before realizing what she's doing and stopping herself real quick.

"Yes darling, I did!" Todd answers and he laughs out loud over someone's voice that speaks to him about something else. He sounds distracted. And a bit drunk. Todd is probably at a party this evening or somebody's wedding of some kind. Carol doesn't care where he is or what he is doing, because she knows Todd Haynes is a very busy guy dealing with all of the showbiz and glitz. But the fact that it's almost 6:00 and he still hasn't giving her any feedback on the chapters for her upcoming sequel, (which she sent them out to him five hours ago on the plane) tells you that A - He's lying on the phone and still hasn't read them yet. Or B - He has read them already but doesn't have the courtesy to say he doesn't like them one bit. Whichever it is, she's ready for his criticism, his suggestions, his ideas. Even if he's full-blown wasted with a slurry vocabulary, she still wants to seek out his opinion.

"What do you think, Todd?" Carol says, softer and more careful now. She paces around in a circle before landing her bottom on the edge of the bed, her back facing the window, thumbnail stuck in her teeth.

"I think..." Todd trails off. He hiccups. "I think you can do better, sweetie..." 

Carol relaxes. She drops her free hand to her lap. "That's all? Give me specifics, love. Which parts are lousy?"

"Ohh, all of it, darling! E-everywhere! The whole bit! You need to retype the entire 26 pages... From scratch!" Todd says. He hiccups again. Music plays on. 

Carol closes her eyes. She rubs the side of her forehead and tries to remain calm. "First off, it's 29 pages, not 26..."

"The amount of pages doesn't make much of a difference, babe. Still all bad. It's pure _shite_. Sorry. Excuse my language..."

"Look, Todd, I'm sure you don't mean the entire thing," Carol snorts. "Just tell me which parts to fix so I can tweak them up a bit-"

"No no, Carol, honey, listen to me-" Todd breathes out loudly from the other end while there's more laughter and music going on. "I'm telling you as your agent and friend, you have to _start over_. Ebony Boone is nothing like the woman you wrote about in the first story. She was dark, courageous, sexy... In this sequel, you've made her into some kind of hippie grandma! Nobody's going to read that!" he laughs now and this time she is no longer making any excuses for him. Drunk or not, party or no party - what Todd is saying to her on the phone is vile truth. And it hurts her deep in the gut, right in the soul. 

Splashes of water and Rindy's giggling from the pool outside break away the uncomfortable silence that now stands between her and Todd. Carol opens her eyes and remembers where she is and who should be her top, main focus. 

"I, um, will get back to you soon, Todd," she says, cursing herself for stammering. She rises from the bed and turns around. She can smell the rosemary chicken and steamed broccoli of tonight's dinner that's coming from the hallway to the large kitchen. Dinner should be ready any minute now and Rindy, still in the pool, is making tidal waves with her feet in the water while Grandpa John Aird finally wakes himself up, snatching the paper off his puddy face, confused on the deck and his surroundings. 

Todd is not aware how upset he's made Carol now. He needs to go, too. Any second longer and he will piss in his pants from drinking too much champagne. "Give me something better next time, okay honey? I'll talk to you more about the sequel later, Carol. Bye, darling!"

"Goodbye, Todd." She hangs up and lowers her phone onto the bed. She now faces the truth about the sequel for her book and feels as if she's just been sucker punched right in the gut. Todd has never spoken anything so mean - so cruel to her before, and for that, she will take it all to heart. She has to. He's right, of course. He knows what he's talking about.

Shaking off the negative vibes that are drilling her mind, Carol licks her bottom lip and gives Abby a friendly text message from her phone that she's made it to Florida safe and sound and how truly the family's been treating her like an Empress. She makes her way to the window. She taps on the glass and gestures for Rindy to get out of the pool and to come inside, so she can dry up and get ready to eat.


	15. Chapter 15

"Fuuuck."

Richard has Therese on her knees; lifting clumps of her hair by two fists while she slides her mouth up and down his cock nonstop. Her eyes are closed shut for the most part, but occasionally she will gaze up to look at him from their bedroom floor as he grips her tighter until she feels this burning sensation coming from the ends of her hair practically ripping from the base of her skull. It's painful, but more enjoyable for Richard since he's the one in most control. He yanks her head back and hisses, " _No teeth! Fuck!_ " the second bone scrapes alongside the thin layer of skin. Therese pulls him out of her and holds his penis gently to stare at all the saliva that bubbles and runs down. The taste of Richard is like a piece of rancid meat that only nauseates you and makes you want to retch from the stomach. She lets go of his dick and presses her lips against the back of her hand.

"What are you doing?" Richard wheezes, and he sounds so dumb to her that it makes her want to cry. "Why the fuck did you stop, Terry? Keep going! You're not done!"

Oh, but she is. She's been done with him for quite some time now. She has this sudden urge to go straight into the bathroom and wash her mouth out with soap. Richard snaps for her to continue, however. He even tries steering her head back towards his slimy, pulsating rod with two hands. Therese finds herself back to sucking him; bobbing her head up and down, up and down. Richard lets out a croaky groan the moment she swallows him. Eventually, she drools and gags with his penis poking the inside wall of her cheek. Tears spring out from the corners of her eyes. A flash of Carol's angelic, daunting face pops into her mind which soon transforms into the pixie haircut woman at the Indian restaurant then transforms again into the face of sharp-wit, smirking Genevieve Cantrell.

Abruptly, Therese slips Richard out of her mouth again the moment she sputters and coughs into a small, unpleasant fit. Richard sighs loudly with satisfactory and lies backwards on their inflatable air mattress bed. His penis dangles out from the open zipper of his jeans with droplets of cum splattered all over. Therese picks herself up from the floor and stands there wiping semen off her chin. She watches Richard for a minute panting loudly like some fucking wilder beast.

"Hey! Terry -" her boyfriend calls out to her the minute she runs out of the bedroom towards the bathroom down the hall. Leaning over the porcelain sink, Therese switches on the cold faucet and cups her hands under the streaming water. She takes several gulps of the lukewarm, metallic tap water and then stares at her tiresome, pimply reflection back through the medicine cabinet mirror. She doesn't like what she sees. She needs to wash her hair again and her skin looks pale and crater-looking like a full moon.

Richard approaches her and stands by the doorway with one arm resting up against the wooden frame. "You okay?" he snorts at her and stares at her through the medicine cabinet mirror. "Why you go all Speedy Gonzales on me?"

"I'm fine," she tells him. She wants Richard to get away from her now. But he doesn't, because today's his day off and she has skipped her art class to be with him.

* * *

"You want me to order for you?" he asks her around lunch time. They are standing inside a burrito place. It's small, very cramped. The square, purple counter takes up most of the room. There's only four tables inside that are filled with hungry, animated customers. Therese stands beside Richard and looks up at the black chalkboard menu hanging in front of them with the list of meat and veggie burrito dishes scrawled in colored chalk. The burrito shack is a very hot and steamy place with two or three houseflies buzzing and whirling around; landing on the surfaces of tables, napkin dispensers, the sleeve of a cook's uniform shirt, even the food on people's plates. Therese grimaces in disgust and vows to never let Richard take her to such a place again. No matter how much he loves it. 

"Terry...? What do you want babe?" Richard says, playfully swatting her on the chest. She clears her throat and mutters something about wanting a bean-and-rice burrito wrapped in a white flour tortilla.

The owner of the burrito place jots down both Richard's meat-and-cheese and Therese's bean-and-rice on a pad of paper with a stubby pencil before hollering out their orders to the cooks inside the kitchen making the food. He then moves over towards the register and states out the price. While Richard is reaching for the back pocket of his jeans to grab his wallet, Therese watches a fly zoom and land on top of a bald man's head that is sitting at one of the tables with his wife and son. The fly twitches and remains still and Therese waits for it to take off. She waits for the man to swat the fly away with his hand, but he doesn't and keeps enjoying his tortilla chips and salsa. His wife doesn't see the fly and neither does the son. 12-years-old or so, the son is hunched over his plate of chips with globs of sour cream and salsa all over his fingers.

" _Terry._ " Richard's voice becomes loud and stern enough to reel her back in towards his direction. He's now standing by the glass door holding up their package wrapped burritos and two large cups of fountain soda. She blinks and hurries over. The fly zips off again in the greasy diner the moment the man's hand takes a strike at it and misses a fatal hit.

"What's with you today? You're acting so damn weird," Richard complains as the two of them start their walk back to the apartment, which they both mistakenly left the puppy home alone with a chair in front of the fridge and another chair for the sink cabinets holding the trash.

"I'm not," Therese replies. "It's nothing..." she grabs her drink from him and takes a sip from the straw, enjoying the refreshing cherry cool taste of Dr. Pepper.

"Dannie is coming over to smoke later," Richard changes the topic and sips his Mountain Dew soda. "He said he might bring some friends, too..."

Great. That's just what she needs. The apartment room stinking up full of pot and men with a naughty French bulldog in between. Therese knows that she will be the one who will eventually be picking up after them and whatnot.

* * *

There's eight of them altogether - four boys and four girls including herself. Therese sniffles up a stuffy nose while holding onto the glassy neck of a beer bottle she's been drinking and her pack of cigarettes clutched in the other hand. She sits wearing a pink lacy camisole and black underwear on the top metal step of a railing staircase that spirals down that is actually the closest thing to a fire escape in the whole apartment. She rubs the arch of her left eyebrow as she listens to the music pounding away inside along with Dannie's friends dancing and laughing. Drinking and smoking. The last time she spotted Richard was in the kitchen making out with one of the girls. She caught them pinned against the fridge door with his hand riding up underneath her dress, thrusting his pelvis forward with such a huge erection. 

Therese pictures them probably fucking now, but she doesn't care. The girl has two big tits and a bent, hooked nose. Plus, she has too much dark eye-makeup on for her liking that gives off a more masculine, drag-queen-ish sort of way. Again, it doesn't matter if Richard is cheating on her right now. Their sex life wasn't all that great to begin with. And lately with all the blow jobs she's been given him, they have really turned her stomach inside out and made her vomit a few times.

The puppy emerges out from the back door and nose-bumps her on the back of the elbow. Billie wants to go out. She pants heavily from the late-summer's evening heat and whines as she claws and pierces the bareness of Therese's skin.

"Need a walk? Yeah, me too. Let's go," Therese says, setting her beer down before scratching the dog affectionately behind her bat-like ears. She takes them both inside and grabs a pair of athletic shorts to slip on. Billie tip-toes her way through the dancing, high-strung bodies with her leash trailing behind. Therese darts herself from Dannie making a lousy attempt for her to dance with him. She pushes away and snatches the leash handle off the floor.

The setting sun outside spills only a little from the roof tops of buildings and branches of trees, giving the world a warm, melancholy vibe that puts Therese at ease. She walks Billie away from the apartment a couple of blocks ahead. She lets the dog sniff and trot around before deciding to urinate on the side of the curb.

"Cute dog!" says a familiar voice just a few feet ahead. Therese shields her eyes away from the orange sunlight and looks on to see Genevieve Cantrell heading towards her direction.

"Thank you, her name's Billie," Therese replies. She drops her hand down once Gen stands close enough and blocks out the fading sunlight.

"We missed you in art class today..." Gen is chewing something - gum - and snaps it loudly in her mouth. She smells sugary like bubblegum and looks very nice in a mustard yellow sleeveless shirt dress with black tight leggings and a pair of red laced-up Converse shoes.

"I know," Therese mumbles, and she sounds very sorry about it, even if she despises it.

"Roberta had us sketching outside," Genevieve shrugs. "She wanted us to capture the everyday life of outdoors..." Gen rolls her eyes and makes Therese grin. "If you want my honest opinion, I think she's running out of ideas..."

"How long will she run these art classes anyway?" Therese questions. The two girls take a minute to watch Billie walk around in circles with just a few distance of leash. 

"She says she wants to end them around late next month," Gen answers. She blows a pink bubble and snaps it with her teeth. Billie tugs to walk further down but stops and whines. The sun is completely hidden now and gone for the day making the world a little more chilly and dark. Therese shivers in the pink camisole clung to her skin and shifts her feet.

"I better get going," she says now and pulls Billie to come back towards her. 

"Will I see you tomorrow?" Genevieve takes a step closer and traces a finger up along Therese's arm, feeling her small goosbumps and the light hairs sticking from the ends. Therese becomes mute. She knows Genevieve is trying to seduce her, but she's not exactly sure why. She lowers her head as she feels Genevieve move her body a few inches closer with her own head turning slightly and their mouths just inches apart. Therese wants them to move, wants herself to take a step back and return to the party. Billie waddles over and now stands between the women, letting out a sneeze that speaks for everybody.

" _You better be in class tomorrow, Miss Belivet!_ " Genevieve speaks in her most uncanny imitation of Roberta Walls that makes Therese wince and tug her puppy back along towards the apartment.


	16. Chapter 16

During dinner, Rindy picks up a heavy silver butter knife and leans on both elbows for the butter dish. Abruptly, Carol takes the silverware from her and cuts a small amount of butter to spread and lather it back and forth across her daughter's yellow corn on the cob. Her in-laws both sit and eat quietly in their seats at the dining room table. Carol soon takes notice her ex-husband's absence by the empty chair and clear plate wedged between John and Rindy.

"Harge left shortly after you settled in the guest room," Jennifer Aird explains, reading Carol's mind. "I do apologize for his discourtesy."

"Believe me, I'm use to it," Carol jokes, but when she realizes that neither Jen nor John are laughing, she fumbles while picking her fork up and stares longingly down at her meat.

"So tell us, Carol. How's your literature coming along?" Jennifer asks politely. She sits up tall in her chair, holding a chunk of steamed broccoli in mid-air below her plate.

"Let's not talk about it," Carol responds cheerfully. She stabs a piece of rosemary chicken and pops it into her mouth.

"I agree with you on that," John Aird nods. "Your last book was shameful." He chews and swallows his food before reaching down for his glass of water.

Carol cuts her meat a bit faster and more intensely now. Jennifer chuckles and hits her husband playfully on the arm. Rindy makes a comment about how there's corn stuck to her teeth. She begins picking away with her thumbnail. Her chin glistens with butter.

"You made the husband such a dud," John continues. "All he wants is his wife to love him. But instead you made him the bad guy!"

"I thought we weren't going to talk about it," Carol hints. She's becoming irritated now and a little pissed off. She gives her father-in-law a warning look before reaching for her glass of water. It tastes refreshingly cool as it slides down her burning throat, but a small part of her is craving for a stronger, more lasting, thicker taste of Moscato red wine. 

"I just want a better understanding on where you're going with this novel of yours, Carol." John sits back and rests his hands on each side of his plate. "I remember listening to one of your book interviews on NPR one late afternoon, and you mentioned that the characters are specifically based off you and your family..."

"A fabrication," Carol half-shrugs.

John shakes his head firmly. "Hearing you tell the public that - _the world -_ that you based off a deranged, violent character on my son, is without a doubt, the lowest, degrading, selfless thing you could do to this family!" He then pushes his chair back and rises from the table. His face colors a dark crimson as he shouts, " _How dare we invite you to our home and pretend to act like a normal family when clearly it's not! You have shamed us from the very beginning, Carol! From divorcing your child's father to head banging your own sex!_ "

"John! Your granddaughter is sitting right in front of you and can hear every word!" Jennifer scolds.

" _Rindy has the right to know about her mother's wrongdoings! She's part of this family too!_ " John thunders. " _It's bad enough in her place! She's always the one left behind! The outcast!_ "

" _Don't you dare call my daughter an 'outcast' you twisted, money-grueling sonofabitch!_ " Carol yells back with tears streaming down her face. " _I am a good mother, goddamnit! And the only reason why Rindy lives with her father is for her well-being and-_ "

"Well-being?" John repeats. " _Well-being? Ha! Your daughter lives a life with divorced parents! A broken marriage! Two homes! An alcoholic mother who loves other-_ "

" _ENOUGH!_ " Jennifer screams. She is cradling a sobbing, half-shaken Rindy in her arms. "In case both of you forgotten, I am now going to take my granddaughter outside for some fresh air away from all of this! In the meantime, I suggest the two of you apologize and make up for the rest of tonight's dinner. If that's too much trouble, I want you to leave and let me clear the table alone!" her voice shakes in between and presses the back of Rindy's head against her chest as she rises from her chair and carries the girl out of the dining room in her pair of short, leather pump heels. Carol goes after them, wanting to be far, far away from John Aird as possible. She watches Jen sit Rindy down on one of the patio chairs, wiping off her tear-stained cheeks. Carol steps past Jennifer in front of her daughter in the chair and blubbers out an apology. She wants to make it up to her daughter for giving her a lousy homecoming.

"Tomorrow will just be you and me," Carol vows, stroking Rindy's long brown locks. "We can do anything you want. Let Mommy take you anywhere you want to go. I'm sorry, baby..."

"That's okay, Mommy," Rindy mumbles, holding onto her mother's long, slender neck; squeezing her extra tight. "I don't want you to be sad. I don't want Grandpa to be mad at you..."

Carol holds onto the six-year-old and thinks back to the crappy phone call with Todd, the absence of Harge, and now the resentment over both of her rich, snobby in-laws. At least there was still some love and kindness on her daughter's part through it all. But with her lips stinging; all chapped and tongue rough and dry as sandpaper, Carol wants a drink of some sort of hard liquor more than ever. 


	17. Chapter 17

"Hey Nyles! Open up!" Genevieve hollers while banging her hand on a thick, metal door. Therese stands beside her and watches the door unlatch itself and steps out a big, heavyset redhaired man with a load of dark body art tattoos running along the sides of his neck. He stares at them and grins the moment he recognizes Gen.

"Eve, baby, what's shakin pretty lady'? Come on in!" The man - Nyles - holds the door open for both of the girls to slip through inside. Therese looks around her surroundings and sees the strip club that Gen works at is just like your average, typical one. There are tables and chairs flipped upside down off the floors. The club has a main stage that takes up half, if not most of the space with a single metal dance pole installed at the center.

"Nyles, I want you to meet Therese," Genevieve introduces. "She's the girl I was telling you about. The one from my art class?"

"Oh, you mean the one you stood naked for in front of everybody?" Nyles smirks. He steps behind a long bar table and leans halfway resting on the smooth, glossy surface countertop. While chewing on a toothpick, the bar manager bops his head along towards Therese. "Eve's got the hots for you, kitten. Better watch out!"

"Eve?" Therese repeats. 

"Nyles likes to call me that," Gen rolls her eyes. She lays out her blue whale print tote bag before sitting down on one of the vinyl bar stools. "He says that I remind him of Eve from the Bible."

"And I would certainly be your Adam if you'd let me," Nyles clears his throat. Gen sticks a finger down her throat and gags. Nyles lets out a deep sigh and drums his fingers a bit. "What brings you ladies here on this fine, Thursday afternoon? The Hayworth doesn't open until 6, and I don't like it when people order any drinks before that."

"Therese wants a job," Gen says brightly. "She's bored out of her mind doing nothing at home." 

"What about the art class?" Nyles questions. He raises a hand out for Gen to shut up and let Therese speak this time.

"The classes are almost over. There's probably only two or three weeks left, but I really don't care for them," Therese explains.

"We actually skipped today's class to come here," Gen points out. 

"So you want to work for me?" Nyles chuckles and rubs his fiery red goatee. "You wanna be a waitress? Or a dancer? Can you dance?" 

"Ooh, I bet she can. Dance for us, Therese!" Gen giggles, leaning back on both elbows on the bar countertop. 

"No, that's okay," Therese murmurs. She tries to tuck her hair back behind her ears, but then remembers that she got her dark brown hair professionally cut short earlier this week and had it dyed black.

"One of these nights I'll get you to dance for me, Belivet," Gen says softly. Nyles clears his throat and offers Therese a position; telling her that she can start right away tonight.

"See? I told you that was easy," Gen says a few minutes later once she and Therese leave with their arms linked together and their feet in perfect step. "I knew Nyles would like you..."

"Thanks, Gen," Therese grins. "Or should I call you, Eve?"

"Ha, ha," Gen responds sarcastically. She stops and throws her arms around Belivet's shoulders when they make it to the green-eyed girl's apartment. "Wear something nice and black, but nothing too casual. See you later?" she gives Therese a light peck on the cheek and pinches her on the butt.

"Yeah, okay - _hey!_ " Therese grins from the touch of Gen's soft lips on her skin and the peachy scent of her perfume. She watches the back of Gen take off and when she no longer sees her, she finally pulls her keys out and lets herself in.

Dannie appears passed out on the couch with the TV blasting a protein shake commercial while Billie is in the middle of licking something green from a plastic container underneath the coffee table. Therese curses low under her breath and quickly snatches the leftover remains of the avocado dip she made for yesterday's lunch. 

"Billie, you naughty girl," Therese scolds her. She sets her keys down and switches the TV off with the remote. Dannie doesn't stir. He lies there limp with one arm dangling, snoring. Therese scowls at the sight of him and carries the plastic container to the kitchen to witness another disaster mess the puppy made with the trash. 

" _Seriously, Billie?!_ " Therese cries out. She goes over to grab the dustpan and broom from the supply closet. As she sweeps up and clears away the garbage, she hears the soft clicks of the French bulldog's clipped nails on the linolium floor and right there she finds a woeful looking puppy standing in the doorway with her bat-ears flatten; head lowered and tail between her chubby legs. Therese takes one good look at the pup and her heart aches. "It's a good thing you're cute," she tells the baby dog. Billie licks her nose. Smiling, Therese turns back to the floor and continues sweeping.

By the time she cleans up the kitchen and takes a shower, Dannie is wide awake on the couch with Richard arriving back from work; coming into the living room holding two pizza boxes. Both men stare at her as she takes a moment drying off her wet hair; dressed in a solid black tank top over a cream-and-cranberry lace camisole with a pair of dark grey yoga pants and her old pair of white Keds. Her green eyes seem to pop out more from the dark eyeliner she wears.

"Hi." Her voice sounds small and careful. Therese gives the boys a lopsided smile before removing the bath towel from her hair and trying to shake the water out from one ear. 

"Woah. _Babe_. You look really hot right now! Did you dye your hair?" Richard shoves both the pizzas in Dannie's arms before making his way over towards his girlfriend, who twists up her wet towel and then throws it in the laundry basket left lying in the middle of the hallway. He tries slipping his arms around her waist, drawing Therese in, but she quickly jerks her head back and starts pushing him away. " _What?_ Was it something I said? Terry-"

"Nice hickey, Richard," Therese snaps. That's all she has to say for him to know what she really thinks about their so-called 'relationship'. Richard laughs weakly and tries covering the red splotchy mark on the left side of his neck. Therese shoulder bumps him as she makes her way for the door while he starts stuttering and babbling how the hickey was nothing but a nasty rash he got from the warehouse, and that she didn't have to worry about it so much. Dannie, already chomping down a slice of mushroom-pepperoni pizza, pokes his head out from the kitchen, watching Richard in the middle of trying to yank Therese around to face him while she keeps shoving him away and grabs her purse off the coffee table.

" _Do not fucking touch me, Richard!_ " Therese yells at him the minute he tugs on her tank top. She rips herself free and reaches for the doorknob.

"Terry! Wait a minute! Where the fuck do you think you're going right now?" Richard shouts back to her, all panicky and scared. "Can we at least have some pizza and talk about this? Wait a second!" 

"I'm going out, alright? I'll be gone a couple of hours. I'm not sure. Eat all the dumb pizza you want, Richard. I really don't care..." Therese now pulls the door open and slips into the cool Indian summer night; closing the door shut behind her.

* * *

The Hayworth Club looks a lot different and feels crazier at night than it does during the day. The place is swamped with dirty, rowdy, working-class men with a few lingering women here and there in between; all standing around or sitting on tables clinking beers together in their hands and waving out wads of cash for the strippers that come out to perform and dance on stage. The entire club itself drowns in darkness and body sweat with loud bluesy, honky-tonk music playing through high, built-in wall speakers. On the left back wall stands a pool table with a dart board nailed above. The other corner on the right wall has a mute TV playing reruns of a baseball game with captions sliding across the screen. The place echos and rattles the panel windows with cheers and whistles of excitement whenever the pink and purple fog machine starts to fall and rise for every upcoming performance.

Therese feels a little out of place during the times whenever she has to carry a round tray full of vodka shots out to certain tables or take away empty side order plates; stacking them and bringing them back to the kitchen where there's only one other person - Zeb - the dishwasher who she will often help him rinse and wash the dishes in the basin sink before taking the trash out to the dumpster. Genevieve, who is actually co-manager of the club, has been very busy in charge of brewing and mixing the drinks behind the bar table along with Nyles and a young girl named Scotland. Every now and then, Gen will check on Therese to make sure how well she's doing the first night on the job. Therese insists that everything is fine and that she is loving every minute of it. She grins and looks away the minute she catches Gen blowing her a kiss from the bar table and wiggles her fingers. 

"Ey sweetie! Over here!" yells out a skinny, old man in a pair of dusty green overalls and square hat, sitting at one of the tables towards the back. His pair of rimless glasses give off a glare from the TV's glowing screen as he waves a hand for her to come over now. 

Therese carefully slips through and makes her way between the crowds of stinky, sweat-drunk hollering men to reach towards the smaller older gentleman in the dusty green overalls and square hat. He smiles a gum-filled, toothless smile that makes her skin crawl with the heebiejeebies. The man lifts the brim of his cap off his head and scratches his chalky forehead with dirty yellow fingernails.

"Say sister! Aren't you a little too young to be serving any kinds of alcoholic beverages to us old geezers?" the man looks up at her with the glare blinding over his eye glasses.

"I'm old enough. What would you like, sir?" Therese speaks in a bored, drone sort of voice.

The man laughs, no _cackles_ at her and gives her a whack on the bottom. "Bring me a shot of whisky!" he crows. "On the double!"

Therese hurries off, fuming. She heads straight for the bar, but somebody - a biker - bumps into her while fooling around and accidentally spills his beer on her. 

"Oh man," the biker laughs with a few men snickering along behind him. "Sorry!" he tells her, but she's already sprinting towards the kitchen. From the bar table, Genevieve has seen the whole thing and stops drying a beer mug with a dishrag to go and chase after her. 

"Where'd she go?" Gen asks Zeb in the kitchen, who is just about to take a smoke break. The retired army veteran points towards the back metal door and watches Gen exit out from. 

Therese is halfway pulling her tank top over her head when Gen steps outside and finds her.

"Hey. You okay? I saw what happen back there," Gen says now. Her eyes land on Therese's breasts clad in a black wired bra. They are small with a few birthmarks. Her stomach is a little pouchy, but with some serious workout training, it can be easily tight and toned up. 

"I'm fine. What are you looking at?" Therese demands now. Her brows crease with confusion as Gen slowly makes her way towards her with a small, dreamy grin on her face.

"I'm looking at you, you bitch," Gen tells her, jokingly, and reaches over collecting Therese's face with her hands. Therese lowers her eyes upon Gen's lips once she draws their faces closer and pulls them in for a kiss. 

Therese can now taste the peachy scent of Gen's perfume once again and finds herself intoxicated by it. She grabs onto the other woman's shoulders; kissing back in return with their mouths moving and pressing up one another. Gen nibbles Therese's bottom lip while dropping her hand down to squeeze her left breast. Therese moans inwardly through their mouths and drops her beer soaked tank top on the ground, all long forgotten. The last time she had kissed a woman had been Carol last spring. But kissing Gen was something brand new to her, something different that thrilled her and frightened her. And this also gave Therese a new kind of hope where there was no more arguing, no more fighting. No more tears or lame-ass excuses or even damn hickies for that matter. Kissing Genevieve Cantrell made Therese believe that she wasn't some sort of pathetic loser, but that she was actually good and beautiful and true to her sexual identity once more.

They kiss harder with their hands roaming and feeling each other up; ending up pinning themselves against a stone brick wall from the back of the club in a wide, streetlighted alleyway, with a brown picket fence boarded around the dumpster that stands just a mere foot away from them.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no, did you forget this one? Let’s hope not! Here’s an update finally... It sure took me long enough! To be honest, I had the worst case of writer’s block for this chapter and overthinking. Anyway, here it is. 18...

“You missed the show,” Carol speaks in a bitter, low tone the minute she sees Harge moving past the guest room; coming from the back door. Her ex-husband stops and peers around to see her sitting on the foam cushion seat of her exercise bike. Carol, dressed in a gray sports bra and a pair of black spandex shorts, pulls off a mini white sweat towel that’s hung around her neck and pats away her glistening face.

“Show?” Harge repeats. He’s confused, and by the looks of him - hair greasy and dishelved, shirt collar wide open with his belt jutting out from his Bermuda shorts - he’s been drinking and now hungover from last night’s late stay at the Billiards & Cigars club downtown.

“Last night’s dinner,” Carol explains. “Your father kept reminding me how much he despises my book which made both of us end up having this screaming match over it...” she lowers the towel and studies it.

“Huh.” Harge wobbles a bit and holds onto the doorframe. He stares at his ex-wife like he’s never seen her before and wonders how could he have fallen for her since the very beginning of their relationship. This woman sitting on a fitness bike was not the same woman he loved and married. This woman, with her boyish haircut and nicely toned biceps, was a complete stranger to him. _Who was this woman and what did she do to his Carol?_

“On brighter topics, I’m taking Rindy to the aquarium,” Carol continues yapping away. “Can I borrow your car for the day?” Her voice sounds much too loud for his small, sensitive ears.

Harge closes his eyes and holds his forehead. He has a horrible headache that feels like a million of tiny jackhammers are drilling into his head right down to his skull. 

“ _Harge?_ ” Carol says his name again. She knows he’s in pain, and yet she keeps going. “I would like to borrow your car if that’s alright with-“

“Yeah yeah, sure thing,” Harge quickly cuts off. “Just remember to pay me back for gas money later...” and that’s when he stumbles off, making a beeline for the bathroom.

Carol rolls her eyes at this request. Same old, typical Harge. The man who lived in such a backwards, black-and-white world; who only sees everything one-sided.

* * *

Bent low on her knees, Carol holds Rindy by the waist as the two of them watch a numerous amount of tropical fish swimming inside a gigantic glass fish tank. They ooh and ahh over the blue and yellow tang - the ones that look exactly like Dory from Disney’s _Finding Nemo_ \- and point out the different markings on the seaturtles and cheer at the sight of the white speckled Beluga whale. They join a small group of children with their parents behind a long rope barrier to prevent anyone from touching the glass.

Next, they go visit the penguins. The young male training instructor stands inside the pen on top of one of the fake, painted ice glaciers in a pair of Timberland work boots, feeding the squawking; animated birds dead squid out from an ice bucket. Carol pulls her phone out and takes a few photos of Rindy watching the performance. Rindy and some of the other children shirek and laugh out whenever they see the penguins catch their food with their beaks and gobble them up whole.

“Mommy, I want to eat, too!” Rindy declares. She’s hungry and rubs her tummy to prove it.

“Let’s get you some lunch, kiddo,” Carol replies, running her daughter’s long, dark hair with her fingers; combing it back away from her face.

They sit at their choice of table at the cafeteria and share a plate of triangle-cut peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and curly fries.

“Are you having the best day ever?” Carol asks Rindy, swirling mustard and ketchup together with a cluster of crispy, golden-brown fries before taking a big bite.

“Yeah,” Rindy giggles, but Carol knows that Rindy thinks doing anything remotely exciting are pretty much her best days ever. She smiles longingly at the little girl and watches her eat her food with globs of ketchup all over her hands. Carol picks up some napkins and reaches across the table to help wipe away the mess.

“Which part of the aquarium is your favorite, sweetheart?” Carol questions.

“All of it,” Rindy says. 

“Me too,” Carol grins. Then she puckers her lips pretending to be one of the fish to get Rindy going; giggling uncontrollably.

After lunch, they check out the sealions. Rindy has the urging desire to pet one of them, but Carol refuses and tells her no. She takes more pictures on her iPhone and sends one of them to Abby, back home in New York. They leave the harbor to go back inside and finish making their rounds. The Gift Shop is their last and final stop on the trip.

“Mommy, can I get that?” Rindy points at a large inflatable great white shark hanging above their heads on the ceiling. 

Carol laughs. “Oh honey, where would we put him? He’s too big for the car! I think that’s only decoration for the store. Pick something smaller.”

Rindy ends up getting three things from Mommy - a blue aquarium T-shirt, a seahorse poster she can color with nontoxic, magic markers, and a stuffed animal sealion - “like the real ones outside!” according to her. By the end of the trip, Carol is wiped out. She buckles her daughter back inside Harge’s Explorer and drives them back to the beach house.

* * *

“You’re back!” Jennifer says happily, standing over a bowl of sugar snapped peas inside the kitchen. She watches Carol smile weakly and set her canvas bag down on the counter while Rindy follows behind her carrying a bulging shopping bag of new stuff. “Good Lord! What did you get, Rindy?”

“A tee-shirt, and a poster that I can color on!” Rindy says proudly. She drops the bag and pulls out the brown sealion toy. “I also got Boris Sealion! See, Gramma? He’s just like the real ones at the harbor!”

“What in the world is that?” Jennifer questions, mystified. She peers down from her apron the moment Rindy steps towards her with the stuffed animal. 

“It’s a sealion, Jen,” Carol says, holding the side of her head at the counter. “Where’s your heartwarming hubby at?”

“John and Harge both went to the greyhound racetrack over at Pier Park,” Jennifer explains, ignoring Carol’s wisecrack comment. “They won’t be back until after dinner or so...”

“Mommy, can you help me color my poster?” Rindy asks now. 

“Of course,” Carol says brightly, patting the empty stool beside her at the counter. “Grab it and take a seat over here...” she licks her lips, becoming thirsty all of sudden. “Jen, what do you have in the fridge? I need a drink.”

Jennifer brushes her hands off before moving towards the refridgerator. She opens the door and lists off the choices: rootbeer, milk, grape juice. “There’s also a bottle of sparkling grapefruit-“

“Ooh! I’ll take that!” Carol says eagerly. She childishly holds her hands out as her mother-in-law takes a minute unscrewing the bottle cap with a bottle opener and hands over the IZZE drink. Rindy throws the seahorse poster on top of the counter below her along with the markers and climbs onto the spare stool. She lays halfway on the table and picks out a color. She grabs purple and starts scribbling the seahorse’s nose. 

Carol takes a sip of the sparkling grapefruit from the corner of her mouth while Jennifer stares at her; knowing the history behind her daughter-in-law’s drinking addiction. Her son, Harge, was nothing compared to Carol being a mean, cold-hearted drunk. Jennifer wants to know if Carol is safe and sober; or has crashed and burn already. But this type of question would only upset the blonde and make the evening worse. Plus, the family was still trying to get over last night’s dinner outburst. So Jen vows to keep quiet and drops the matter. Carol only wants to spend time with her daughter as much as she can here in Florida, after all.


	19. Chapter 19

Therese stares blankly through an oversized window at the faint buzzing noise of the city and feels so quiet and small in comparison. She doesn’t seem to notice Genevieve’s reflection coming towards her way, but soon she’s standing there (dressed in a solid brown set of bra and panties) and holds out a plate of waffles drizzled in strawberry syrup and whipped cream.

“Here you go, sweetness,” Gen tells her now. Her soft brown doe eyes match up with Therese’s intense sharp green ones before they both peer down at the food.

“Thank you, Eve,” Therese smirks. She takes the plate and picks up the fork. Then she starts cutting the corners of the two toasted waffles before stabbing them together and popping them into her mouth.

“There’s also two mugs of coffee sitting on the kitchen counter back there,” Gen explains. That’s when she playfully tugs on the tail of Therese’s white bathrobe tie she’s been wearing this morning and tries pulling her closer to collect her in her arms. 

Therese keeps chewing and swallowing bits of waffle while Gen squeezes her in a tight embrace and nose buries the deep side of her neck. Her lips come in full contact now as they press gently on skin. Abrupty, the fork drops onto her plate and Therese finds herself pulling away. Gen laughs and immediately loosens her grip while letting go.

“What’s the matter?” Gen asks, amusingly.

“Well, Richard doesn’t know where I am,” Therese hears herself say. It sounds dumb, but it’s not exactly far from the truth. She never came back home last night from the club and slept over Gen’s penthouse apartment instead. Richard has probably already left early for work by now; stressing over her whereabouts. Therese actually couldn’t care less about him, ( _she was done, absoluetly done for both of them_ ) but she had to bring up his name sooner rather than later to figure out a way to dump his ass for good.

“Fuck Richard,” Gen scoffs. “You honestly want to go back to that douchebag?” 

“No, of course not,” Therese murmurs. “I would like to spend more time with you, Gen...” and to prove her point, she sets her plate down on the dresser table across from the double mattress platform bed and walks over to give the wavy, dark brown-haired woman a warm loving embrace. Genevieve holds tightly onto Therese’s shoulders and squeezes them as she stares at her longingly in the face. 

“You should live with me then,” Gen whispers. “It’ll be perfect for us. I mean, both of us work, so we can each split the rent and utilities. And there’s plenty of room for you. What do you say? It’ll be fun...”

Therese smiles back at her, but it’s a sad one. The last time she lived with another woman, it pretty much destroyed her, but Genevieve Cantrell doesn’t know anything about Carol Aird or their history, and Therese wants to keep it that way. Deep down inside her heart, Therese still wants Carol all to herself, on good or bad terms. And sharing the blond to Gen right now would only bring out more questions and concerns, which Therese would not and never be ready for.

“Earth to Belivet, hello?” Gen whistles to her softly. When she gets a smile in return, she brightens up and tries to tickle the young woman boths sides of her ribcage. Therese belts out laughing that gets Gen laughing along, too. Her fingers stop and they share a brief kiss before the ultimate question comes up again:

“Will you live with me? We can head over to your place, grab your stuff, and tell Richard to fuck off...?”

“Let me go do that, you stay right here,” Therese replies, and sighs the minute Gen parts her robe open to trail soft kisses everywhere on her bare collarbone and the top half of her breasts.

Genevieve remains outside in her underwear on the rooftop terrace of her apartment when she sees Therese fully dressed and ready to go. Gen brings her cup of coffee close to her lips and takes a couple sips out of it while she watches her new girlfriend carry her purse and beer-soaked shirt towards the stainless steel elevator doors.

“Don’t take too long! I’ll be waiting for you!” Gen calls out to her.

Therese grins and presses the DOWN arrow button with her finger. Once the bell goes off and the doors slide open, she steps inside the elevator and comically blows Genevieve a kiss goodbye.

Riding all the way down to the main lobby, Therese feels a swarm of butterflies swirling inside her stomach. She’s nervous for agreeing to live with Gen and dumping Richard in the process, but at the same time she’s excited and relieved. The only thing that sucks and she’ll miss dearly is Billie. Gen already has a calico cat that probably wouldn’t bond so well with a puppy around. Maybe it’s for the best that Richard and Dannie take care of the Frenchie, for she will be working most of the time anyway.

When the elevator stops and the doors slide open, a woman with a pixie light blond haircut with dark roots; fumbles with her heavy shopping bags and bumps into Therese the moment she steps off.

“Sorry, excuse me-“ the woman starts, but then her liquid brown eyes widen with surprise the minute she recognizes Therese.

Therese’s mouth parts open, for she has seen this woman before, too. It was the one who sat across from Carol at the Indian restaurant.

Mutely, the woman steps inside the elevator and holds onto her bags while giving Therese a disturbed, threatening look. Therese glares right back and bares out her teeth to snap, but the sliding metal doors close just in time and shuts her up. 

Just as she’s about to leave to go back outside, something small and white and rectangular has caught her eye on the carpet floor. Therese quickly picks it up.

The woman’s name is Abby Gerhard. Apparently she’s a professional tarot card and palm reader. Therese snorts and crushes the business card and feels angry all over again. Instead of throwing the card away, she decides to keep it and shove it inside her purse. Least she now has some sort of connection to hear from her beloved one once more or maybe get the opportunity to actually see her and talk to her again if she can play her cards right.


	20. Chapter 20

The remainder of Carol's week in Florida consist hours of playtime with Rindy on the beach, shopping at the local outlet mall stores, and walking through the neighborhood to stop and look at some yardsales with the grandparents. She had even done a little baking in the kitchen and helped Rindy build a cardboard clubhouse in the living room when the weather got bad and made the family stay inside throughout the morning and the rest of the afternoon. But it was on her last day, her last night, when everything pretty much made her feel as if a heavy gust of wind knocked her down like an ocean tidal wave.

Carol is now laying in a curled up position on the bed in the guest room, talking animatedly to Abby on her cellphone, while her daughter keeps running back and forth between rooms; giving her mother a small fashion show by wearing all of her new back-to-school clothes for the upcoming school year.

" _Lookit this one, Mommy!_ " Rindy stands perfect eye-level in front of Carol on the foot of the bed dressed up in a red corduroy pleated skirt and white cotton top. She ballerina twirls in a pair of frilly socks that are included with the new outfit. Carol grins and reacts with sheer surprise.  
"So beautiful! Woow!" she exclaims before sending Rindy galloping off down the hallway to try another outfit on.

"What was that?" Abby laughs from the other line.

"Rindy," Carol chuckles. "She's giving me a little fashion show trying on her new back-to-school clothes..."

"Cute. So what time will you arrive back home tomorrow?"

"Well, my plane takes off at 6. So I'm hoping maybe around late noon, early evening. Not too, too late..." Carol tugs on a loose thread from the glossy turquoise color bedspread beneath her. 

"I miss you," Abby sighs. 

"I miss you, too." Carol abandons the thread and rolls over to lie flat on her back.

"It's been lonely without you here in New York. And boring..."

"Aw, sweetie," Carol pouts.

"Have you at least tried writing any new chapters for _Air 2_ yet? Please say yes!" Abby urges.

Carol scowls and holds the side of her forehead. "No. I haven't made any effort touching my laptop..."

" _What! Why?_ "

"Because I just haven't, darling." Carol did not want to open a can of worms and bring up that disaster dinner night with her in-laws or the fact that her agent Todd laughed and made fun of the typed work she sent him via email. During the week, he text her several times trying to apologize for the way he mistreated her in his embarassingly drunk state, but she ignored him until she finally caved in and sent him a colorful image of a donkey on what she really thought of him. Todd replied back with a smiley emoji laughing out tears and a corny thumbs up icon sign next to it. All was well, now that both he and she made up and were back in each other's good graces.

"Well that really sucks," Abby complains.

"Uh huh," Carol goes. She hears Rindy's feet stomping through the guest room again. She picks her head up and sees the little girl dressed in a yellow-orange-green autumn leaf printed turtleneck with a pair of salmon pink jeans. Carol widens her eyes and holds a thumbs up sign. In that moment she thinks of Todd and feels like a complete nerd.

"Mommy, Grandpa wants you to play Solitaire with him!" Rindy announces.

"Oh, before I forget! You won't believe who I saw in my elevator yesterday!" Abby speaks earnestly through the other end. 

"Who?" Carol rests her head back down just as soon as Rindy runs over and throws herself on the bed; her arms clinging onto her mother's waist while climbing on.

" _Mommmy!_ "

"Hold on a sec, Abby," Carol pulls the phone away and looks down at her daughter. "Rindy, honey, can't you see Mommy is talking on the phone?"

"But Grandpa wants you to play Solitaire with him before you leave tomorrow!" Rindy whines.

Carol huffs loudly and puts the phone back against her ear. "I'm sorry, Abby, but I'm going to have to let you go. We'll catch up tomorrow...?"

"But Carol-" Abby starts.

"Tomorrow," Carol tells her. She makes a few kissing sounds with her lips before hanging up. She sets her phone down while Rindy giggles below and holds her head up with pure six-year-old delight.

"Silly girl," Carol tsks. 

Rindy wraps onto her like a kola cub and buries her face onto Carol's blouse.

As promised, Carol plays a few rounds of Solitaire at the dining room table with John Aird before and after dinner. Jennifer serves them peach pie vanilla ice cream for dessert and then collects Rindy in her arms to give her a bubble bath. Once again, Harge takes off doing his typical, regular routine driving in town and playing billiards at the private cigar shop. He's fully aware of his ex-wife's departure early tomorrow morning, but all he pretty much tells her is to 'Take care' and 'Good luck' before backing from the drive way and peeling out.

Dressed in a matching satin pajama set of camisole and shorts, Carol takes her final time spending the late hour tucking Rindy into bed. She bends over to give the girl a hug and kiss goodnight.

"My special girl," Carol whispers through the dark roots of Rindy's hair. "I love you..."

"Love you too, Mommy," Rindy says. She stares up at her mother somberly. "I don't want you to go tomorrow."

"I know, sweetheart," Carol soothes. "But you're going to have so much fun in school and make so many new friends back in New Jersey. And before you know it, Christmas will come, and you'll get to help Mommy celebrate decorating the tree and open all the presents!"

"Christmas feels far away," Rindy pouts.

"Just a few more months," Carol replies. 

Rindy then turns her head on her yellow pillow and points over towards her doll table by the bookshelf that's filled with markers and scribbled out drawings. "I made a new drawing for you," she says.

"Yeah?" Carol smiles and walks over. She stands by the table and picks up the newest drawing on top of the pile. On the paper she sees a brown square house with a scribbled blue oval shape inside and five yellow stick figures in red and purple square dresses and green square shirts. Carol recognizes her daughter's artistic abilities of drawing her family - she sees both grandparents and herself with wavy yellow hair and blue dot eyes. She sees a stick figure version of Rindy but the figure to her left (with long brown stick-like hair and green dot eyes) appears not to be Daddy Harge, but someone else. 

"Do you like it?" Rindy speaks up now.

"I do, honey, it's very lovely, but who's the person on the far left?" Carol asks.

"Aunt T," Rindy answers.

Carol blinks slowly, feeling perspiration on the tips of her fingers, dampening the white drawing paper. 

Aunt T.

_Therese. Of course. With those unsettling green eyes, they could stop traffic and make the world spin anywhere._


	21. Chapter 21

_Her fingers fumble with the apartment key as they slide it through the lock and twist the door open. She enters the living room to find the place smell like pot and dog poop. There's empty pizza boxes and soda bottles lying on the couch and coffee table. Balled up pieces of used paper towels and plastic snack food wrappers are scattered everywhere all over the floor. Therese steps over a few small piles of Richard's dirty clothes on her way towards the kitchen. Once again Billie has gotten herself into the tash and left a huge clutter mess of garbage on the floor, but there's no sight of the actual puppy anywhere. Therese stands next to the table and sees a message written on a napkin with black permanent marker:_

__**Terry,  
Took Billey over to my place. Don't wory. Be back soon!  
Luv ya, Dannie**

_Therese snorts after reading Dannie's horrible spelling and pushes the napkin aside. Taking a fresh new one from the metal holder, she yanks the cap off the black Sharpie marker left on the table and writes back in large capital letters:_

__**RICHARD -  
** CLEAN YOUR SHIT!  
GOODBYE!!!  
\- TERRY 

_Satisfied, Therese clips the marker cap back on and heads straight for the bedroom. She shoves most, if not, all of her clothes and a few pairs of shoes into a red mesh laundry bag she will carry over to Gen's._

_"You're leaving?"_

_The sound of Dannie startles her and makes her drop a pair of green hightop Converse on the floor with a soft thud. Therese glances up and sees her friend standing by the doorway holding a Dunkin Dounuts coffee in one hand, and a well-content; nose-sniffing Billie cradled in the other._

_"Yes," she hears herself say. Her voice sounds small, but firm with the decision._

_"Why? I saw what you wrote," Dannie tells her, taking a few sips of his coffee._

_"I need my own space. It's better this way," Therese shrugs._

_"Where are you going to live? This is crazy, Terry!" Dannie laughs. He took a few hits from his brother's smoke pipe earlier that morning and now appears red-eyed and stoned as per usual._

_"A friend from my art class. And it's not crazy, Dannie. I should have left a long time ago..." Therese picks up the sneakers and drops them inside the mesh bag. She pulls the drawstrings tightly together before swinging the heavy laundry bag over her shoulder; the weight of it makes her stumble a bit on her feet._

_Dannie bursts out laughing; making Billie yip and bark out several times. Therese strides over to them with her stuff and scratches the puppy behind her soft, powder blue ears. She murmurs for Billie to behave from now on before receiving a quick lick of farewell._

_"Wait, Therese - What should I tell Richard when he gets back from work?" Dannie calls out to her.  
He stands there in the hallway holding his coffee and the wriggling dog; watching her place her copied apartment key down on the coffee table while moving through the living room towards the front door._

_"Just show him my note!" Therese tells him. "See you around, Dannie! 'Bye Billie!" She opens the door and steps out to the bright, wind-swept September weather. With the door closing shut behind her, she sets her mesh bag of clothes down on the concrete sidewalk and pulls her phone out to call a cab that can bring her and her clothes all the way back over to Gen's apartment._

Five hours later, Therese stares blankly inside The Barn Owl Bookstore on 124 Crosby Street; standing next to a wooden bookshelf for thriller/drama authors of A-through-G. Genevieve steps towards her and playfully bumps her by the shoulder.

"What are you thinking about?"

"N-nothing," Therese stammers.

"That's a lie, but whatever," Gen eyerolls. Smirking, she turns in front of a selection of books stored inside a wooden shelf and quietly reads titles printed across the spines of them before pulling a few out.

Therese begins to browse, too. She traces along each hardcover and softcover paperback novel with a black-chipped fingernail before stopping at a sunset-orange hardcover novel with the author's last name printed in royal blue cursive lettering: 

_Aird_.

Feeling her heart pulse rapidly deep inside her chest, Therese tugs at the novel's thick yellow spine and pulls the hardcover entirely off the shelf. She holds Carol's book in both hands and immediately falls in love with the warm canvas background colors of bumblebee-yellow and sunburnt-orange. The book's cover shows you a sillouette of a woman (the main character: Ebony Boone) sitting on a rowboat in the middle of a lake with the title scrawled below it in the swirling, rippled water.

Genevieve leans over and reads the title out loud. "No Air At His Place. Huh. What's that about? Sounds like a romance novel..." she takes the book from Therese and flips through the pages. Then she stops halfway and skims a few paragraphs.

 _Give it back_ , Therese wants to say, but she only blinks instead and lets Genevieve continue reading parts of Carol's story.

"'Anton spat at me'," Gen reads a line in the book. "'He was no longer the man I married, but just a sick, obsessive stranger. My abuser...'" she turns the book around to the backcover and peers down at the blown-out photo of the author. Carol stares fiercely back into the camera with her arms crossed, lips pursed, and her blonde hair perfectly coiffed; back to its original neck-length. "Carol Aird's writing has appeared in _Wired, Discover, Vogue_ , and the _New York Times Magazine_. She's a single mother who recently lives in-"

Therese snatches the book out of Gen's hands and quickly shoves it back into the shelf feeling very irritated and hot under the collar.

"What the fuck, Therese?!" Genevieve looks more stunned than angry.

"We should go," Therese says eagerly. "Nyles wants us early at the bar tonight, remember? And I still need to take a shower and get ready..." she now leaves the aisle making a quick beeline towards the exit of the bookstore. Gen stares after her before moving along to catch up; slowly shaking her head in the process.


	22. Chapter 22

“How’s that?”

“Higher...”

Carol grunts and looks up watching Abby’s face contort with full pleasure and arousal. She holds onto the other woman while their naked bodies entwine together on top of Carol’s bed; both women shaking with sheer sweat. Abby clings onto Carol’s bare shoulders while rubbing herself up against the blonde’s inner thigh. They’ve put themselves in a “scissoring” position completely intact. For the past hour or so, both ladies spent their morning baking cookies in the kitchen, talking about embarrassing moments they’ve dealt with in their lives, and then eventually end up having sex upstairs, which they both seen it coming.

Abby’s moans were high and breathy like a schoolgirl’s. It surprised Carol and made her smirk every now and then. Her nails kept digging and left tiny half-crescent shaped marks all over Carol’s back.

Carol pulls forward and peppers small kisses around Abby’s navel. Abby pants loudly and then bites her bottom lip hard.

“You’re doing great,” Carol tells her.

“I think we both know,” Abby giggles.

Carol folds her left leg under Abby’s right thigh and hisses softly.

“What’s wrong?”

“Leg cramp.”

“Looks like someone’s been exercising too much!” Abby crows.

“Or not getting enough,” Carol sighs. She removes her hands from Abby’s waist while the pixie haired woman carefully pulls away and rolls onto the bed lying face up with her chest heaving.

“Almost had it,” Carol whines.

“Next time,” Abby huffs.

Carol lays down and turns sideways next to her. She studies Abby closely and places her hand over one breast. 

“How did I get so goddamn lucky?” Abby speaks up now. She shifts her body around to lie on her side and stare back into Carol’s strikingly grayish-blue eyes. Carol’s hand wanders off Abby’s breast to her jawline; tracing along with her thumb.

“We’re both very lucky, Abby,” Carol smiles. “We have each other.”

“You’re my best friend, Carol.” Abby scoots closer so that their faces are just inches apart. They share a deep meaningful kiss before covering themselves up under the covers.

* * *

“You still haven’t told me the person you saw leaving the elevator the other day,” Carol says. She scoops up a slightly-burnt peanut butter cookie off some wax paper with a spatula and holds it in front of Abby in her tidy, clean kitchen. Abby takes the cookie and bites the top half.

“Oh, it was Therese,” Abby replies, mouth full. She watches Carol’s face freeze before the corners of her mouth spread into a bitter smile.

“Really? Therese?” Carol whips her head back around to the cookie tray. “I wonder what she was doing there in the first place?”

“No idea,” Abby swallows and shakes her head. “It was just an awkward situation... And scary...”

“Scary?” Carol repeats.

“The look on her face was a bit extreme. Like she wanted to kill me...” Abby takes another bite.

“You two don’t even know each other!” Carol laughs.

“I think so, Carol,” Abby frowns. “I think Therese saw us the day we went to that Indian restaurant. She remembers me!”

Carol rolls her eyes. “That still doesn’t explain why she was at your apartment.”

“Oh god. Maybe she’s trying to rent one of the rooms? I know we have a few spaces open,” Abby says.

Carol picks up a cookie, but the salted peanut butter scent makes her stomach churn and nauseates her. The thought of Therese living in the same building along with Abby loses her appetite and makes her regret hearing the news. She wants to change the subject now and wraps Abby into her arms.

“Let’s stop talking about her and think of something fun we should do tonight...”

“Sure. I know a place,” Abby slips both hands inside the back pockets of Carol’s jeans and presses against her with their skin touching for warmth.

* * *

Smashing beer bottles and low gruntles of male laughter erupt and startles Carol; quickly putting her on edge while Abby laughs across from her at the table they share inside the dark, smoky strip club known as The Hayworth. The place is crowded and packed tonight with sleazy, sharp-tongue-cheeky women and heavy, bearded motorcycle-gang type of men with ripped sleeves of dark markings and tattoos inked all over their arms, legs, spine and neck. 

The onstage performance plays loud bluesy, honky-tonk music from high, built-in wall speakers while the performers - several different women dressed in bright neon corsets and fishnets and boa feathers - dance and grind upon a single metal pole. 

Men shout out slurred, rude obscenities and whistle to the strippers; waving some wads of cash in the air and stomping their feet. A couple of waitresses - a tall strawberry blonde and a pretty olive-skin Brazilian - make their rounds carrying trays of shot glasses and club sandwiches throughout the night. A game of pool starts with the tip of a wooden stick cracking a perfect set of solid and stripe covered balls. Nobody pays any attention to the baseball team flashing on the TV screen in the corner. The captions disappear and then reappear for dialogue and summary.

Carol orders a beer which turns into another. And another. And another one after that. At first, she wasn’t sure what to make of the strip club, but after having five Coronas in total, her head is now swimming and she can’t stop smiling and the clothes stuck to her skin are plastered with sweat.

“ _You are so hammered!_ ” Abby shouts at the top of her lungs. With her mascara ruined and her eyes all glassy, she too, is just as drunk and disoriented. All thanks to four vodka shots and two rum & cokes.

“ _I am?!_ ” Carol hollers back. She’s laughing and holds up her beer and feels somebody’s ass bump behind her; making her beer slosh around. If she was sober, she would go apeshit. But since she wasn’t, she didn’t care. She places the glass lip of the bottle between her mouth and chugs. 

“ _Ooh, ooh! Look at the stage!_ ” Abby screams, pointing at the pink and purple colored smoke spraying and floating out of the machinery behind the curtain. A line of strippers come out and take turns dancing around the pole. Men whoop and cheer. Carol and Abby cheer along with them. And when the last girl appears...

The short, mousy brunette, runway walks in a black corset with a red boa feather scarf hung around her neck. She looks timid in the silvery-glitter makeup and dark red lipstick. Her legs worn in fishnet stockings spread a little in a pair of patent leather boots giving out a couple of wolf whistles and jitters from the audience. The girl takes one end of the boa feather and slides it off her shoulders. She flicks it tauntingly and then leaps onto the pole inches above, sliding it down around like what firefighters do when they leave the fire station. The whole time she keeps her eyes down, but when she looks up; staring into the bright hot stage lights; her green eyes pop from the glitter and shadow and that’s the moment when she exposes her identity.

“ _Way to go, Therese! You got this, baby!_ ” a new voice - a woman’s - shouts all the way over from the bar. She has wavy dark brown hair with bangs and stands behind the long, rectangular table with a beefy red haired man and a sleepy, nose-studded woman.

Carol takes one good look at Therese and recognizes her instantly. Seeing her onstage dressed in lacy lingerie is too much for her eyes to take. The warm sour beer that’s been sloshing around inside her mouth; spits out now and sprays a guy nearby, unaware of the fact that he just got wet.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I have so much more for this, but this “bar night encounter” will be a three part for you all...

Therese blinks onstage and dips her head down to bow while the overcrowded mobs of beer-bellied sweat-drenched, motorcycle gang bang of men whistle sharply through their yellow-stained teeth and curly beards; some of them pumping up their beer bottles high in the air with loudly crazed, intoxicated laughter. Feeling the rapid pulse of her heart beating and both the black leotard and fishnets under the corset riding too far up her bum, Therese decides that she’s all done for the rest of tonight and wants to go change into something a little more comfortable and less-revealing to wear. She turns her back around and drags the red boa feather scarf towards the rear of the stage to hide herself behind the curtain. Simultaneously, a tidal wave of mockery catcalls and boos go along with her departure.

The other dancers are changing and undressing their costumes inside the small makeup room. Therese walks over towards the vanity mirror and grabs a few tissues. She begins to wipe off the glittery-silver eyeshadow, but keeps the lipstick on. She likes dark red. It makes her look fierce.

“What a bunch of amateurs!” laughs a girl in a turquoise bra and white thong panties. She reaches over and pulls out some 50 dollar bills from her right breast. She takes a minute to count her money while another girl (pulling a hot pink dyed wig off her shaved head) giggles along and starts sliding her bubblegum pink colored tutu down to her bare ankles. 

“ _I got some digits!_ ” crows a dancer, removing a couple of yellow sticky notes off her thighs and legs. 

“ _Shut up, Lacey! Who even says that anymore?!_ ” another screeches.

“ _Me, that’s who! Stupid!_ ” 

“ _Slut!_ ”

“ _Thot!_ ”

“ _Dumb whore!_ ”

Therese gets sick of hearing them. She throws away the tissues, grabs her clothes that are shoved inside her canvas bag and makes an exit for the bathroom next door.

* * *

Dressed in an olive green T-shirt and black jeans, Therese leaves her stage costume piece behind and returns to the main floor of the bar. Genevieve meets her halfway from the bar table. Squealing with pure excited joy, she wraps her arms tightly around Therese’s neck; hugging a warm, affectionate embrace. 

“You were totally rockin’ up there!” Gen tells her, giving her a sideways kiss on the cheek. “I knew I could make a dancer out of you! Who called it?”

“You did,” Therese says, rolling her eyes. “And you will never ever talk myself into doing that again.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you! The music is too fucking loud! Let’s go get you a drink!” Gen shouts out now; grinning from ear-to-ear as she clings one arm around Therese’s shoulders to steer themselves back to the bartender station. Nyles and sleepy-eyed Scotland both greet and praise over Therese’s performance. Therese blushes and sits herself down on a vinyl stool while Gen lets go of her.

“Nice number there, Therese! What’ll it be for Dita Von Teese?” Nyles guffaws, reaching under the bar table to pull out a clean beer glass.

“Anything dark will be fine,” Therese replies, crossing her arms together. She eyes Genevieve, who steps past Nyles and takes the beer glass from her. As she pours and mixes some kind of concoction, Scotland leans on both elbows and smiles wearily in return.

“Was it scary doing all that pole dancing up there?” she asks. 

“Yeah. It felt surreal. Like I wasn’t in control of my own body and somebody else was messing me around like a fucking marionette!” Therese laughs between the music blares of horns and sax.

“That’s some deep shit,” Scotland giggles. “I could never in a million of years do that!”

“Don’t bother,” Therese snorts. “You’re not missing much...” suddenly a faint, but rowdy commotion stirs up a good distance across from the club that makes Therese twist around in her seat. Scotland peers curiously along, too. There they see a group of men huddled around a blonde woman lying flat on her back, laughing, clearly drunk and unharmed. Her girlfriend, a pixie haircut woman dressed in a cream dress with zebra printed green-and-black leggings, hovers above her in the process of trying to get the blonde to sit up. The blonde won’t budge. Tears and mascara are streaming down from the corners of her eyes while a cue ball of a man with a long handlebar mustache, flares his nostrils at her looking very pissed off. 

“What the fuck...?” Scotland starts. She flinches back the minute Therese quickly climbs off her stool and rushes over towards the mayhem.

“ _Carol!_ ”

Saying her name brings back all the memories - the good and the bad - that swirls right into her head and causes her a bit of dizziness. 

The pixie - Abby - looks at her, mystified. She, too, is drunk, and narrows her glassy brown eyes. “Hey. What are you doing here?”

Therese ignores her. She pushes between two guys and bends down to her knees next to her ex-lover and soulmate. Carol grows quiet and looks up at her. She smiles and lets out another hearty, girlish laugh.

“What the fuck are you even doing here?” Therese snaps. “Get up. Get off the floor right now, Carol...” she’s angry, but she’s not exactly sure why. Maybe it had to do with the fact that Carol insisted upon her that she no longer drank anymore, but then here she was, back to her old ways. And maybe since it still bothered Therese, it pissed her off even more. 

“Don’t you talk to her like that!” Abby hollers. Her voice cracks and sounds stupid. “You wanna mess with her, you have to mess with me first!” 

“Abby, my sides,” Carol wheezes, bubbling up into another fit of laughter. She squeezes herself into a bear hug like an overgrown four-year-old.

Therese stares down at her with disgust. “I want both of you to get out! Get out of my bar!”

“Your bar?” Abby slurs. “Well aren’t you miss mighty hot shot?” 

For some reason this comment makes Carol laugh harder. A few men chuckle along and keep watching her, mesmerized. Therese finds herself lifting Carol’s arms underneath with both hands; pulling her up in a sitting position. Carol’s upper body feels warm and heavy and her head rolls back laying squarely on top of her ex-girlfriend’s lap. 

“Mmm,” Carol goes.

“You’re drunk,” Therese scolds. “I feel stupid to believe there was a chance you could actually quit your addiction!” 

“No, no, honey,” Carol tosses her head from side-to-side on top of Therese’s lap. “Not stupid...You’re a wonder, tonight...” she giggles softly and snuggles affectionately. 

“Get off the floor! You’re blocking the way, bitches!” calls out a gritty, mean old man voice.

“Who you calling ‘bitches’ you asshole?” Abby hiccups. 

“ _What the fuck did you just call me?_ ” 

“Hey! Back up! Everybody just back off! Look out!” Nyles arrives with Genevieve tagging along. They stop and look down to see Therese on the floor with her hands cradling Carol’s face. “Jesus... What the hell happened?”

“My girlfriend ssspat at this guy and then f-f-fell out of our table,” Abby slurs, giggling. She hiccups and furrows her brows. “This place has shitty service!”

“You better shut up now,” Gen warns. She acknowledges Carol lying on Therese and waits for an explanation.

Therese doesn’t speak. Instead, both she and Nyles help Carol stand back up and sit down in a chair. 

“Therese,” Carol speaks gently. “Let’s go home, alright?” she blindly reaches for her purse, but a lady in rubber snakeskin purple, takes it and holds it out to her. Carol snatches it. 

A new performance onstage begins now with brassy, bluesy horn music playing that pulls the entire group’s attention. Everybody except for Nyles and the four women continue back to their night of party drinking and hollering.

“Am I missing something here? You two know each other?” Gen questions, crossing her arms.

“Who are you? Her watchdog?” Carol lashes out. She’s tired and wants a ride home to go straight to bed. Her eyes look wild and fierce and cloudy gray while her fingers graciously pull out and stick an unlit cigarette between her lips. 

“Just shut it,” Therese hears herself say. She watches the blonde raise her eyebrows up amusingly, knowing exactly how nervous she can make Therese feel. “You should probably call an Uber to take you and your trashy girlfriend home...”

“Fuck you,” Abby sing-songs.

There’s a hint of sadness on Carol’s face, but she quickly covers it up and bops her head over towards Gen and Nyles; pressing on.

“Aren’t you at least going to introduce me to your friends tonight?” she pouts. Even with five beers in her bloodstream, she can pull an amazing act of toying the mousy brunette. Like a cat with a yarnball of string.

Therese glares at her, but for some reason she can’t respond. Gen rolls her eyes and storms back to the bar table to help Scotland serve drinks to a mob line of people. Abby laughs comically now and tries moving her feet without stumbling. She trips and falls over with Nyles catching her.

“Whoopsie daisie!” she exclaims before laughing all over again.


	24. Chapter 24

Nyles steadies Abby forward before letting her go. She stumbles and lands on top of Carol’s lap in the chair. Then Abby playfully yanks the unlit cigarette out of Carol’s mouth before leaning down to kiss her squarely on the lips. The two women messily make-out, which quickly draws out a few sharp whistles and catcalls from some of the men. Finally, they pull themselves apart and stare into each other’s glassy, unfazed eyes before both of them start cracking up into a fit of wheezy, nonstop laughter.

A muscle twitches one side of Therese’s jaw. She can feel her face growing hot. Her gaze lowers the minute Nyles coughs awkwardly and then leaves to go back to the open bar.

“ _Yore soo damn sexy!_ ” Abby tells Carol over the loud, blaring music. She giggles while sliding her hand through Carol’s open collar shirt.

“ _Noo, you are the sexy one!_ ” Carol bleats out and taps Abby on the nose with a finger.

Therese has seen enough of this. Instead of wasting more time losing her voice from shouting so much, she storms off and leaves Abby and Carol alone at their table again.

“What a _bitch,_ ” Abby hiccups. Now she begins to kiss along the curve side of Carol’s neck and tries rubbing her face between her silk-clad breasts. Carol grunts low in response and finds Therese’s departure surprisingly uplifting and refreshing. She’s not in the right state of mind for an argument tonight or in the mood for one for that matter. In fact, with all the burping and cussing, the brass instruments, the several pairs of steel-toe boots stomping on loose wooden floorboards and the obnoxious rattling of rice shaking inside colorful maracas onstage by flimsy, saucy-looking dancers - it was all too much for Carol’s comfort and gave her the worst excruciating kind of headache imaginable.

Abby’s hand now feels heavy and moist inside her blouse and she no longer enjoys the fondling of her breasts. With her stomach tightening up with a wave of nausea, Carol wants out. All she wants and desires for is to take a step outside for a breath of fresh before she-

“Carol, honey? Wha’s wrong?” Abby asks now. She pulls her hand out to peer more closely at Carol’s ill, grainy complexion.

Abruptly, Carol pushes Abby off her and rushes through the crowded, rowdy nightclub towards the main entrance where both she and Abby came in earlier tonight. She hears her name being called out after her, but not once does she stop to keep her feet from moving. 

A small group of teenagers huddle close together outside a few feet away from The Hayworth Club; passing a blunt around. They turn their heads to look over just in time to see Carol’s body upheave and puke everywhere on the shiny, mica concrete. Vomit splatters and hits some of her patent leather wedge shoes. The kids burst out laughing with some of them yelling out, “Holy shit!” and “Yo, that’s nasty!”

Carol whimpers and holds onto her kneecaps. She gags and pukes some more; closing her eyes with pure annoyance, humiliation, and disgust.

“Oh baby! Oh, _Carol!_ ”

Abby makes a wild dash out of the club and comes clip-clopping her way over to the sick woman in a pair of electric-lime-colored stilettos. She throws her arms down over Carol’s hunched back and cradles her. “Babybabybaby! You’re gonna be okay... You’re okay... Everything’s gonna be-” she stops to find the kids still laughing and then she drunkenly screeches at them: “ _Shatup! All of you! You think this is funny?!_ ”

“Fuck you, lesbo!” a boy yells back. 

Carol is crying underneath Abby’s arms. All she can smell now is vomit and the stale taste of alcohol lingering on her breath. “Abs... Abby,” she sobs, her voice in just a croaky whisper. “Home... Take me home...” she lets out a shaky sigh.

“Yeah yeah,” Abby sluggishly nods. “Let’s go. We can go now...”

The two women walk themselves along the paved sidewalk towards Abby’s convertible that’s parked fifteen kilometers away. Just as they make it to the vehicle with Carol stumbling around towards the passenger’s side and Abby taking her car keys out of her pantsuit pocket, a familiar, yet discreet warning voice comes out from behind them and stops them in their tracks.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Neither one of you guys are in no shape to drive!”

Therese had been following after them and now stops to catch her breath. Her green eyes looked darker and more intense underneath the fluorescent orange beam of light belonging to one of the street lamps. Carol thought she looked so magical that very moment and held her breath at the thought of breaking down to cry again.

“Mind your business will you, _please?_ ” Abby says, but she now sounds more exhausted than angry.

“Don’t be stupid. I’ll drive both of you home,” Therese replies calmly. She then walks closer and carefully takes the keys from Abby’s hand, who stares back at them with mystified confusion. 

“Bless you, Angel,” Carol tells her with a smeared-lipstick smile. She waits for Therese to blush in return, but instead, Therese acts as if she never heard a word come out of Carol’s mouth and pulls the driver’s car door wide open.

* * *

Abby and Carol both sleep through the car ride back to Carol’s apartment with Therese driving them behind the wheel ignoring the several phone calls and urgent text messages Genevieve makes throughout the entire route. In truth, Therese deliberately prevented herself from explaining the truth about Carol to Gen and the long history the two of them shared. She wasn’t ready to confess anything yet. She wasn’t sure how or where to start.

Her main focus was on Carol and to drive her back home, safe and sound. The sight of her and Abby snoring together in the backseat of the convertible infuriated her to the core. Therese didn’t like their so-called relationship and she was so disappointed with Carol’s drinking getting out of control again. She really thought Carol had been trying to become a better person for herself and for their daughter.

Therese stalled then cut off the engine once she made it to Carol’s apartment. Looking through the rear view mirror, Abby's head was resting on Carol’s shoulder, out cold. 

“Hey! We’re here,” Therese snaps, watching the two women stir and jolt up from their deep slumber.

Inside, Abby heads straight for the couch in the living room. She lays facedown with one foot still wearing a stiletto. Carol and Therese remain in the kitchen when Carol pats herself down briefly and gasps. Her purse!

“Here.” Therese holds up the creme brûlée color Coach bag in the air and watches Carol’s blotchy, pale face relax; relieved.

“You’re a lifesaver, Therese,” she says now, taking the purse and dumping it on top of one of the kitchen chairs. She covers her face and then drops her hands. “I need a smoke...” she hiccups and removes her wrinkled blazer.

Therese mutely walks over towards the kitchen sink and collects a clean cup out of the dish rack. She turns on the faucet and fills the brim with cold tap water. 

“So,” Carol speaks, taking the cup of water from Therese when she hands it over. “Since when can you pole dance like that? You were mir-miraculous!”

“It was just a one-time thing,” Therese mutters. She crosses her arms over her chest. “I see that you are drinking again...”

Carol takes a sip of water and holds it inside her mouth with both cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk. She swishes the water around inside trying to get rid of the vomit taste. When she swallows, she laughs lightly and half shrugs.

“I thought you were better than this,” Therese snorts. She looks around the all too-familiar kitchen and stops dead eyeing the legs of Abby sticking out from the couch across the hallway in the living room, feeling jealous and sad, all over again.

“Me?” Carol says, clearing her throat. It was hoarse from shouting over loud music. “Look who’s talking! Least I’m not... Not the one who works at some floozy, stripper bar joint, darling! I-I wouldn’t be the one judging me.”

“You sound trashed, and you look like shit!” Therese lashes out. “So what if I work at a place that’s not high with your standards! I make money and take care myself without destroying the people I love!”

Carol slow blinks at her. She feels so tired and can barely hear what Therese has just said. 

“You know, I could really use some bed rest,” Carol replies, eyelids drooping. “Than-Thanks for stopping by...”

“Stopping by?” Therese repeats. “Is that what you call it?!” she storms over now and stands just inches away from Carol. “I dropped you off, so you wouldn’t have to lie dead in a ditch somewhere from drunk-driving in the middle of the night! I didn’t come over for a visit!” 

Carol stares down at her and smirks. She steps closer and reaches over to brush a loose strand of hair away from the girl’s cheek. Then she traces her thumb around Therese’s lips. Her blue-gray eyes look dull and bland under the kitchen light - not having quite the same glow they provide normally.

“What are you doing? Don’t touch me,” Therese huffs, reeling her head back away from Carol’s hand.

“Do you still think about me?” Carol says now, with a tint of softness in between. “Remember what we were, Therese?”

“I won’t,” Therese spats. “Not when everything was feeling good again!”

Carol tries hugging Therese now; collecting her tiny frame in her arms, attempting to kiss the crown of her head to keep her quiet, but the smaller woman wasn’t having any of it. She kept her distance by pushing and shoving Carol away; both of them crying now.

“I love you!” Carol chokes out with a sob.

“You’re drunk,” Therese bawls, “You don’t mean that!”

“Stay here... Please,” Carol sniffles. She notices the cup lying on the floor and couldn’t remember when she dropped it.

Therese shakes her head violently and mentions in a fast jumble of how happy she finally has become with her new lifestyle and her new partner Grace or Gertrude... Something that started with the letter G! And how everything was finally being well put together in place before this terrible night started and how she and Abby pretty much ruined it. And then Therese says something about how she never wants to see the likes of her again at _her_ bar, and that if she really cared and loved her, she would’ve stopped drinking months ago and had made some kind of an effort instead of yaddiyaddiyah... 

Carol will forget almost everything Therese has run her mouth off by tomorrow morning. She drowsily now watches her ex-lover head towards the front door telling her how she should really get her act together and dump Abby, if she really truly loved her. And with that, Therese is gone with the door slamming shut hard behind her; leaving the apartment now only filling with the noise of the refrigerator buzzing, and the faint snores coming from Abby in the next room.

Carol grabs for her purse and fumbles for her pack of cigarettes before calling a night.


	25. Chapter 25

“Yo! Move it! Haven’t got all day, _chica_!”

Therese stops and glares through her pair of sunglasses at the small, Hispanic driver sitting behind the wheel of a New York transit cab. He blares the horn droning the noise out loudly with a hard press of his hand and chomps on his thick wad of bubblegum just as Therese flips him off and continues crossing the street. She opens the glass door of a Starbucks and finds Genevieve sitting in one of the black leather home decor sofa chairs, reading, THE BOOK. The author photo of Carol staring fiercely back into the camera with her arms crossed and neck-length blonde hair windswept, rapidly speeds the heart rate and catches Therese off-guard. Genevieve, however, keeps on reading the novel the moment her mousy girlfriend stands above her with a long cherry-wood coffee table wedged between them. Therese sighs and waits for Gen to look at her. When she does, she slow turns a page, and remains silent.

“You left early this morning,” Therese begins.

“Yeah, I did,” Gen goes. She closes the book halfway and cocks her head. “Are you done ignoring me? I just want to be sure...”

“I’m sorry about last night,” Therese murmurs, watching Genevieve smirk while opening the book up again. “Those women-”

“She’s the blonde one right here, isn’t she?” Gen cuts off, tapping a finger on the back cover of Carol’s author shot.

Therese nods.

“Never thought I’d get a novelist to come walking through my bar,” Gen snorts. She combs her fingers behind loose brown curls. “A bunch of burnouts hanging outside told me they saw you get in a car with Blondie and her loudmouth friend with the funky clothes.”

“They wanted to go home, so I dropped them off,” Therese shrugs.

Gen rolls her eyes. “You don’t have to be so weird and secretive about it - I get it. You like this Carol person. You admire her work. It’s like you have this fan-girl crush on her or something. Don’t even try denying it...”

Therese smiles shyly and suddenly feels the vibration of her phone going off. She pulls it out from her denim pants pocket and sees a text message from Richard with a highlighted link underneath.

“What?” Gen says, seeing the disgusted look filling Therese’s face. She eventually hears a female panting like she’s been running out of breath with soft moans of pleasure. It almost sounds like-

Richard has sent Therese a porno video clip of two guys and a girl having a threesome. It takes place at a motel with two naked body-builder men - one underneath, one lying on top - sandwiched between a D-cup-sized woman, sucking on the tips of her knuckles while the guys take turns sliding both their penises in and out of her.

Richard has text above:  
**This could be us with Dannie if you quit being a total drama queen bitch.**

“Oh my god,” Therese fumes. With shaky fingers, she deletes the video message and feels humiliated and angry and sad all combined. “Richard just sent me porn...” she says with her voice cracking.

Genevieve laughs. “What a scumbag! Is he seriously that bored of himself? Here,” she quickly picks up her chai flavored drink from the coffee table for Therese to take a sip.

Therese pulls on the green straw and swallows a few sips of the coffee. She wants to block Richard’s number and forget about him for good. He meant nothing to her. Their love for each other was dead.

* * *

“ _My head... My head fucking hurts_...” Carol moans, clutching the side of her forehead with the most painful expression. She hears water splashing and squints her eyes open to find Abby standing outside her bathtub, washing each of her porcelain bare shoulders with a pink loofah she bought at Target.

“I blame myself entirely,” Abby says now with her sleeves rolled past her elbows. She twists and tightens the loofah with both hands; squeezing out more lemon-lavender bodywash soap all over on Carol before dipping the sponge back into the bath water to rinse her off some more. 

Carol whimpers and cups her face. The hangover was taking its toll on her. She felt as if there were ten million tiny jackhammers drilling holes inside her skull all at once. She vows to never drink as much as she did last night ever again. But of course with addictions, she knew they don’t really stop that easily or continue on smoothly. With bad ones especially, like smoking or drinking, they could become a living hell to a person. A total nightmare.

“Shit! I need to go,” Abby curses, dropping the loofah back into the bath water with a “PLOP!” getting parts of her navy shirt-dress wet.

“Come take a bath with me,” Carol whines. She pouts while Abby cradles her face with both hands and kisses her briefly on the lips.

“Believe me, I would love to, but I can’t. I almost forgot that I have a tarot reading session to do in twenty minutes!” Abby explains. She pulls away and hangs onto the bathroom door. “We'll talk later! Alright?”

Carol, still pouting, wiggles her fingers goodbye for a response. Abby blows out a kiss and takes off. Carol reaches for the pink loofah floating inches in front of her and finishes washing herself in the tub.


	26. Chapter 26

Todd arrives three hours later to read and edit Carol’s manuscript. The whole time he’s standing there by the balcony window with his sleeves rolled past his elbows and his plastic squared glasses perched down on the bridge of his nose, Carol gnaws her thumbnail out with a jitter of nerves and decides that Todd’s wide, solid body takes up too much space and fills up the entire living room. The importance of his criticism overwhelms her.

She wants him to stop reading her work and take a small break, but he lifts up another page and continues reading. The expression on his face grows worrisome. Suddenly, Todd drops all of the one-hundred-five typed word document pages and sighs heavily.

“You’ve killed Anton,” he states.

“No, Warren Baker did,” Carol corrects him. “Look. I know I left off some readers questioning Anton’s death in the first book. Remember when the bastard gets sick in jail and thinks he got poisoned from eating the cafeteria food?”

Todd nods.

“Well, in the second book, it turns out that Anton’s fine. He’s right as rain! Just bad indigestion! Soon enough, in the sequel, cell mate Warren Baker chokeholds Anton outside in the courtyard and then kills him from strangulation...” Carol takes a minute to reach for her glass of water resting on top of the coffee table. Sitting cross-legged on the floor in a pair of sweatpants, she takes a sip of her water and sets the glass down again. After taking her bath this morning and popping four Tylenol pills, the throbbing hungover headaches were finally going away and it seemed as if she was finally getting somewhere with her story.

“His death sounds reasonable, honey, but what about Ebony? You’re still making her look and sound corny.” Todd whacks the rough draft’s cover with the back of his hand.

“I mean, she’s 44, Todd,” Carol shrugs. “She wants to settle down for a bit. Less running. More loving...”

“I like how stubborn Amber becomes when Ebony begs her for forgiveness in Chapter 9. Those two are like Fire and Ice!” Todd exclaims, laughing.

“Amber happens to be Ebony’s baby,” Carol smiles sadly. “I’m still not quite sure how those ladies will turn out in the end.” She brings the glass of water close to her lips again and starts laughing to herself.

Todd smirks down at her. “What?”

“I went to a bar club last night with Abby,” Carol says, shaking her head. “Never again.”

“Did you girls get plastered? What? Tell me.” Todd crosses his arms over his chest, shifting his legs, getting himself comfortable.

“We did, and there was an actual stripper show. Guess who danced for us?”

“Who? I don’t have a clue.”

“ _Therese_ ,” Carol emphasises her name, wide-eyed. 

“Therese?” Todd repeats. “Your ex?”

“Yeah. She performed last night. Onstage.” Carol facepalmed, eyes closing. 

“How’d she do?”

“Let me put it this way. I fell off my seat, she was that good,” Carol replies breathlessly, tears brimming her eyes.

Todd stomps his foot and pouts. “You two were so good together. So happy. I miss that for both of you.”

“I know, babe,” Carol sniffles, knuckling shiny, wet teardrops off her eyelids. “I know.”

* * *

“Do you miss your puppy?” Genevieve asks. She turns over to look at Therese stroking her shorthaired, calico kitty, Masaiah, on the queen-size waterbed. 

“Yeah,” Therese answers. “She was a total brat, but I loved her...” The housecat was in complete purring mode as Therese kept scratching and scratching her under her orange-black chin, her favorite affection spot.

“Maybe on the actual day when I knock out Richard cold, I could break in his crib and puppysnatch Billie, so that way she can come here and live with us?” Gen suggests. 

“Does Masaiah even like dogs?” Therese smirks. She places her hand between the top of the cat’s ears and lowers her face down to kiss the animal’s warm, vibrating pelt.

“She’s never met one,” Genevieve replies. Then she picks up Carol’s book lying facedown wide open on her stomach and continues reading. Therese glances at her sideways and scowls. Gen has been getting more and more focused on Carol’s book ever since she bought it from the bookstore and started reading it at Starbucks this morning. 

No matter how much she tried to fight it, Therese couldn’t stop herself from looking at Carol’s author photo that was staring right back at her, for it was so alluring and sexy and had some sort of power reeling her back in along with making her head swim and heart pound deep along inside her chest. Therese couldn’t stand it, it was like she was suffocating all over again.

Only this time it was Carol’s doing. Not Richard’s.


	27. Chapter 27

Therese holds Genevieve’s hand as they walk through Greenwich Village together. It’s windy. Most of the green-yellow leaves on the trees are changing drastically into bright orange and red autumn colors now. Pigeons are bopping and pecking for crumbs on the cobblestone streets. Gen releases her thumb off the button of her new vape pen she bought at a smoke shop and then puffs out blueberry scone scented smoke rings out from her mouth before passing the e-cigarette stick along over to Therese. Therese takes a couple of hits inhaling the pen between her lips while pressing onto the button and then releases after a second or two. She puffs out some more blueberry smoke flavored juice. The girls have spent their Saturday morning browsing some beauty shops and shopping mall stores and just spending time enjoying each other’s company.

“You want a pretzel?” Gen asks. She spots the mobile pretzel cart that’s only a mile away from them.

Therese nods and puffs out more vapor smoke as they walk towards the pretzel cart. She stands over and watches Gen pull free of their arms to reach for her wallets inside her quilt-patched shoulder bag. She buys them two soft, Nutella filled pretzels and cans of Lemon-Lime soda. Genevieve removes the wax paper off her pretzel and rips off a chunk to eat while Therese slips her arm through hers again and snuggles close. She finds it amusing that the two of them are wearing matching Disney sweatshirts with cartoon pictures of Minnie Mouse and Daisy Duck pointing towards one another with the same word of _HERS_ italicized on their backs instead of the traditional _HIS & HERS_ for the one with Mickey Mouse. Gen had seen the sweatshirts hanging together on a clothing rack at a Disney store in town and begged Therese to wear one with her. Therese gave in and gradually grew fond over the trendy, hipster look.

More shops and venues come into clear view with groups and groups of tourists carrying around their shopping bags, walking their dogs on leashes, and pushing baby carriages along. Genevieve and Therese stopped briefly to watch a couple of street performers play Celtic music with a mixture of wooden, pipe, and string instruments. After hearing three numbers, each girl threw a dollar inside a black floppy hat turnt rightside up. Then Gen wanted to go check out an art studio her friend was renting. It turns out that the friend was somebody Gen _and_ Therese both had known for quite some time.

Phil McElroy, the older brother of Dannie, stands behind a cash register helping two art collectors from Canada purchase one of his famous metal pieces: a crow sculpture made out of copper and tin. Phil rolls up and covers the 800$ dollar worth artwork with strips of bubble wrap and places it gently inside a gift bag just as soon as Gen and Therese come into the shop. 

“Genevieve! Hello!” Phil greets her and then his eyes widen with total disbelief and surprise on the sight of Therese Belivet. “Is that the mind-blown, Ms. Wonderful Therese I see you standing with?!”

“Hi, Phil.” Therese shyly smiles at him. She stops and waits for him to finishing packaging up the copper crow to the Canadian art collectors before moving quickly around from the store counter to come over and hug both her and Gen with his arms spread out.

“What’s been going on, Phil? How are you?” Therese giggles inside around his arms, kissing him lightly on the cheek.

“I’ve been busy making art! What else? How are things been with you?” Phil speaks happily in one whole breath, pulling themselves apart quickly enough to go kiss and embrace Gen. “Hey, sweet thing, nice seeing you, too...”

“I take it that you two already know each other?” Gen knits her brows with confusion. She shifts her eyes back and forth on Phil and Therese, who are both smiling wide-eyed.

“Phil and Richard are best friends,” Therese clarifies.

“More so with my brother, Dannie, these days,” Phil snorts. He shakes his head. “How do you ladies know each other?”

“Art class,” both Gen and Therese chorus. They laugh along with Phil, who was very pleased to learn his numbskull of a brother wasn’t too high to forget to give Therese that art pamphlet he wanted her to have.

“I’m glad to hear that Dannie was able to give you that art pamphlet, Terry. You look great, by the way. Love the haircut and the black dye coloring. How’s life been with you and Richard?” Phil asks curiously. 

Therese lets out a shaky laugh with Gen smirking along. “We’ve split up. I’ve been living with Gen now...” she blushes soon as she feels her girlfriend slide her hand down her thigh and give it a playful squeeze. Phil stares at them until he figures everything out and laughs out loud hard and forcefully.

“Oh! So, are you two...?” he takes up both women smiling and nodding their heads. He claps his hands together with a crisp smack. “I see now. You’re girlfriends!”

“Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner!” Gen says in her best public announcer voice. 

Phil chuckles and stares at Therese like he’s seeing her for the very first time. “Wow, Terry. You and Gen. That’s different. I thought you and Richard would’ve become husband and wife someday!”

“Nope. Not even,” Therese replies, reaching her hand out for Gen to hold and squeeze. Phil kept shaking his head like he was trying to get water out of both ears.

* * *

“Could Phil be any more of a Trump supporter? ‘Thought you and Richard would’ve become husband and wife someday’. What the fuck dude?!” Genevieve outbursts the moment they arrive back to her penthouse apartment around 4 o’clock that evening. Therese moves from behind her and sets the mail down on the Formica kitchen countertop. She clicks her teeth and greets the cat once Masaiah wakes up from her nap and sniffs the tips of Therese’s green nail polished fingers with the cold touch of her pink spotted nose.

“He still said goodbye and hugged us after that,” Therese shrugs. Her hand caresses the side of the cat’s head and rubs her furry forehead while she half-closes her slanted, golden-yellow eyes. 

Gen snorts and kicks off each pair of her black combat boots. “Least I know Nyles respects me and doesn’t fake it. What time are you in tonight?”

“Six. But Nyles wants me over early to clean and help set up. What are your plans for the rest of your evening?” Therese crosses her arms.

Genevieve walks towards her in mismatch jungle-print socks and collects Therese inside her thin, frail arms. “Perhaps eating you out in the jacuzzi right before your work hours might be a swell idea?”

* * *

That’s exactly what they did.

Therese, in a lime green Hawaiian bikini, fumbles with her hands trying to grasp onto the round, smooth plated hot tub, while Genevieve’s head keeps bobbing up and down between underwater and the water’s bubbling surface. Gen shoves Therese hard to keep still and spreads apart her legs further inside the bubbly tub as her fingers trace along the edges and lining of her clitoris. Therese hitches a breath just as Gen pulls on the green bottom bikini and cocks her head slightly before planting her mouth wide open deep inside the girl’s main center; licking every flap and every layer.

When she squeals and whimpers Gen for more, Therese’s upper body splashes and flails around and for a quick instant she thinks of herself as a mermaid magically growing a pair of beautiful, human legs.

Gen’s dark, wet curls stick all over her head as she rises up for air. She grunts for Therese to cum already while shoving two fingers inside her vaginal hole. Therese reaches over and grips onto Gen’s bare shoulders. “Al...Almost... right there... _There_...” she moans loudly with her feet kicking up slamming Gen’s rib cage.

“Fuck!!” Gen swears, pulling her hand out from underwater. Therese sputters how sorry she is. Gen sucks the two fingers and slurps with a smirk. Then she violently grabs hold of Therese’s face and draws her close for a kiss.

They make out in the bubbling jacuzzi. Gen, in her purple bra and swim shorts. Therese in the summer bikini. They kiss and pull their mouths apart, millions of crystalized water droplets sprinkle everywhere on their goosepimply skins. Therese remembers her promise to show up to work early and panics when she realizes the time.

“Just tell Nyles you lost me and found me in the hot tub,” Gen chuckles, watching Therese splash towards the mini step railing and climb out of the jacuzzi tub dripping wet with her short black hair slicked back and plastered around her face.

“You know he won’t listen to that,” Therese snorts back at her, snatching a fresh dry towel out of the built-in cabinet set along with her clean folded uniform.

“This was worth it. Remember that while you’re serving tonight,” Gen calls after her, floating in the tub with just her neck sticking out and her collarbone and shoulders underwater.


	28. Chapter 28

Abby shuffles her deck of tarot cards before spreading them facedown on top of her black onyx coffee table. She tells her sixth client today to go ahead and pick 3 cards. Roberta Walls pulls out 3 cards of her choice and watches Abby lean across the table to flip the first one over.

“You got ‘The Moon’ tarot which often represents your ‘shadow’ self,” Abby begins. “You must open your eyes to see the big picture of what’s really going on in your life. You are not sure of your destination or the path you are traveling, but you keep moving nonetheless.”

“That seems about right. Just the other day I found out my husband’s been sleeping with our nephew’s kindergarten teacher,” Roberta sourly responds. “I knew our marriage went to shambles the minute he laid eyes on her...”

“That sucks, Roberta. I’m sorry to hear that,” Abby tells her while turning the second card over. The second new card has a picture of a jester. “The Fool tarot advises you to lighten up. Release any tension or high expectations...”

Roberta snorts while tapping her cigarette over the candy dish ashtray. 

“I can sense your presence to be very uptight and punctual,” Abby continues on. “Are you some kind of a leader...?”

“I teach art classes on Baker Street,” Roberta half shrugs. “My kids are like any other. I love what I do, alright?”

Abby smirks. She moves her hand to the third and final card. “Your last card is... The Queen of Cups!”

“Oh boy,” Roberta’s scratchy voice fills with full sarcasm.

“The Queen of Cups encourages you to be generous, kind, and forgiving,” Abby explains softly. “Support the ability of others to get what they want.”

“I damn well know I’m never going to forgive my ex-husband for cheating on me,” Roberta says, shaking her head with disgust. “As for giving others what they want, I guess you could say that I give my students an artistic view on life - Exactly what they signed up for.” She takes a drag of her cigarette and puffs out a cloud of smoke. She’s bittersweet about coming here doing a session. Abby checks the time on her cellphone with a small wave of relief to know that all of her morning hours are done and completely over. Her job dealing out tarot cards and palm readings won’t start back up again until early tomorrow.

“And we are still going to make those healing crystals for next time, correct?” Roberta questions Abby once she has paid and gathered all of her things by the studio apartment door.

“Yes, of course! I’ll see you a week from today,” Abby grins. She waves Roberta goodbye and lets the woman leave for the elevator that will ride her straight back downstairs into the main lobby.

* * *

Carol arrives later that same evening with an armful of groceries - including a carton of caramel swirl ice cream and bottles of sparkling cider. Together, both she and Abby cook roasted chicken thighs with lemon and oregano for dinner. They dance and sing along with Bruce Springsteen through Abby’s Bluetooth purple speaker set on the kitchen table. Carol's voice cracks between versus of one particular song and stops by waving her hands in the air. She quits singing and pulls her laptop out from her bag to type more of her book’s sequel. Dinner won’t be ready for another thirty-five minutes or so. Abby has just remembered that she had put a load of laundry in the washer earlier, and still has to throw it into the dryer.

Abby wrestles her arms through the sleeves of a navy zippered jacket and slides her gray knitted socked feet into a pair of Adidas flipflops. “I'm going to check on my clothes in the laundry room, Carol!” she calls over to the back of Carol’s blonde head. 

“Okay, sweetie, okay,” Carol tells her without looking up from her monitor screen. Her fingers tap and shift around her keyboard gracefully with top notch speed. She’s so absorbed with her story that she barely hears Abby opening and closing the door shut behind her.

The laundry room is two floors below her, which sums up to be the lobby’s basement. A row of six washers and six dryers line up facing across from each other. Abby finds a girl reading on top of the farthest running, rumbling dryer. She’s wearing a purple bra and soaked swimming trunks with a bath towel twisted around her wet curly brown hair. The book in her hands happens to be a hardcover copy of Carol's first drama novel, _No Air At His Place_.

“You’re an Ebeyond, too?”

Genevieve looks up just as Abby stands over by one of the washer machines, smiling, as she pulls up the metal lid and gathers up all of her dark load of clean clothes.

“I’m sorry? An Ebey- _what?_ ”

“Ebeyond. An Ebony Boone fan. I’m actually one myself. Ebeyond. That’s what we, the fandom, call ourselves,” Abby explains. She carries her bundle of laundry to the dryer next to Gen and yanks open the door before throwing the clothes inside.

Genevieve laughs. “That’s nerdy as fuck! But I love nerds, actually, so I guess it’s not such a bad thing...”

Abby slams the dryer door close and spins the dial to start a regular heat. “The author’s right upstairs on my living room couch typing the sequel as we speak.” 

Gen’s eyes widen with surprise. “Shut up. She is not!”

“It’s the truth,” Abby smirks. “We’re dating, too.”

Gen stares at her long and hard before a spark of recognition zaps her and she excitedly points a finger. “You’re that crazy, drunken chic at my bar club the other night! The one wearing the stilettos!”

Abby gives her a funny look. “I don’t remember too well... Did we meet each other?”

“My girlfriend gave you and Carol Aird a ride home,” Gen explains. “You both were too drunk to remember any of it, I guess. She’s working tonight right now. Oh man, if only she knew Carol Aird the author was right here under the same roof as me! Oh shit! I should get her autograph! Could she sign my book real quick? I’m Genevieve Cantrell, by the way...” Gen rambles.

“Abby Gerhard,” Abby introduces. She remembers only tiny bits and pieces of the night at the club, but distinctly remembers Therese driving her and Carol home and then passing out on Carol’s plush couch soon after that. But as Abby stands there with Gen all hyped up and excited, she realizes the poor girl doesn’t know about the past relationship between Carol and Therese, because _Therese still hasn’t told Genevieve yet. Not one single damn thing!_ And it’s not like Carol personally knows this Genevieve girl, because they’ve never met before. Or have they? Carol was too drunk but she’s clean and sober now. So this one-time meeting between her and Gen will be harmless and fine. All hunky dory. Nothing to worry about, because Therese isn’t here to ruin it for them, after all. So what could be the problem?

“I’m sure Carol will be happy to sign your book for you real quick. Let’s go upstairs and meet her. Okay? Let’s go,” Abby finally hears herself say.


	29. Chapter 29

Carol saves her unfinished work before logging off her laptop computer. She rubs the bony skin part of her nose, then covers up her eyes with the palms of her hands until she finally takes off those ridiculous, yet fashionably-geeky pair of glasses. She finds Abby's time checking on her load of laundry questionable and a little extensive. Trying not to worry about it, Carol wraps her mind on something else and steers herself back inside the kitchen to check on the chicken. Tonight's dinner was still not ready yet. Now feeling a small tickle crawl up the back of her throat, Carol deliberately pulls out the foiled-top sparkling cider from the fridge and pours herself a glass. Her quench of thirst has been skyrocketing more and more these days, and she knew it was the early signs of her alcoholism. Smacking her lips, Carol sets down the now empty glass. In her mind, it screams for something more stronger. Carol lifts up the neck of the bottle and glances up to witness Abby's arrival accompanied along with somebody else. The girl had dressed herself in a gray university sweatshirt over a pair of washed out denim jeans.

 _Ah, another fan_ , that was Carol's first thought of the young woman. She caught sight of her drama-thriller novel, _No Air At His Place_ , tucked neatly in the crook of the girl's arm. Abby somehow bumped into her and convinced her to come ride the elevator along with her to get her book signed from the actual author herself. That's the reason why Abby was taking so damn long.

"Carol, this is Genevieve Cantrell," Abby speaks up now. "She's a die-hard fan of your work."

"Well, not really," Gen says quickly. "I mean, I only just started reading the book," she grins sheepishly and shakes away the kind gesture of Abby waving for her to sit down. Gen doesn’t plan on staying here for very long. All she wants is a signature to show Therese and prove that Carol Aird was actually breathing the same air as her. "It smells great, by the way. What is that?"

"Chicken with lemon and oregano," Carol answers. "I swear, my dear, I feel like I’ve seen you before..." she steps around the kitchen counter table top and takes Gen's copy of her book. Smiling, Carol opens and unfolds the jacket flap of the hardcover and clicks a fountain pen from her plastic tote bag she came over with. Hearing Gen's next words startle her.

"You did, actually. But you were so drunk you probably don't remember it."

"That night at the bar," Abby coughs out. Carol's right hand freezes while holding the pen above blank white paper. Her confusion quickly transforms into remembrance and her brain jogs back into place with memory.

"You were with a bearded-guy," Carol says carefully. "And with..."

"Therese, my girlfriend," Gen finishes matter-factly. "She dropped you guys home without even telling me. Typical of her. Therese can be total slick at times."

"H-how is she?" Carol stammers, dropping the pen, and folding her hands together.

"Good, I guess. She's working right now," Gen snorts, staring hard at the pen that hasn’t written anything yet.

"Carol, may I speak to you privately for a quick sec?" Abby joins in the now awkwardly meet-n-greet. She forces a megawatt smile to Gen before leaving the kitchen with Carol following her into the bathroom down the small, narrow hallway.

"Jesus Christ, Abby, that's the girl-" Carol starts, but Abby shushes her and presses a finger to her mouth for her to be quiet.

"I know that Gen and Therese are girlfriends," Abby cuts off in a harsh whisper. "But you just can't mention any of your love history to this girl, because she thinks you are simply a popular book author that only got a ride home from her girlfriend, and thats it. How I'm seeing it, Therese hasn’t told Gen the truth about you two yet."

Carol clamps her mouth shut and cups her forehead with both hands. _That's Therese for you, alright. Keeping everything inside until it’s too late and then spills everywhere all over you. That is so like her._

"You seriously think I can do that? Pretend I never knew Therese before the car ride?" Carol questions. She lets out a shaky laugh and drops her hands. "We were together for so long, Abby. How can I possibly do it? What if I slip?"

"Well just hang on then," Abby tells her. "Remember, Therese is doing the same thing as we speak. She hasn’t spoken yet. Gen wouldn’t be here, if she did so."

"You're right," Carol snorts. "I should have seen this coming. Meeting the Other Woman..."

"Well, tit for tat. I’ll be your other woman," Abby giggles, reaching up to cup Carol's face and bringing themselves close for a sweet, passionate kiss. Carol moans the second she feels Abby teasingly suck her bottom lip. They pull apart, breathing heavily.

"We better head back out there," Abby says, voice cracking. "Our dinner is going to burn and set off the smoke alarm detector."

"Gen is still waiting for my autograph," Carol chuckles. "What shall I write? Best wishes fucking my ex-girlfriend?"

Abby laughs and playfully covers Carol's mouth from such language. "You are too naughty," she says, laughing more. "You better not write that..." she removes her hands and pushes the bathroom door.

Genevieve is still waiting in the kitchen, now with a severe pissed off look on her face. Carol apologizes to her and casually reaches for the pen and book. As she scrawls away, Abby checks the food in the oven and shuts off the timer.

"There you go," Carol says, extra perky. Gen scowls as she takes the book from her and reads out loud the small, thoughtful message. 

_"Read on, Gen! And you too, Therese! Best wishes, girls. Yours truly, Carol Aird."_

"Would you like to stay for dinner?" Carol politely offers. "Or maybe Abby could fix you up a plate, so you can take some food back and share it with Therese?"

"No, that's way over the top, Ms. Aird," Gen dismisses. "A signature is all I came for. Thank you so much."

Abby pulls the chicken out from the oven with blue cloth mitts and sets the hot dish on the stove top. "Are you sure you don't want a plate? There's plenty here, honey."

Genevieve's stomach growls in protest. The last thing she ate was a pretzel which was hours ago. It wasn’t like she made any plans for dinner tonight anyway. At least the cat was fed. And Therese would be working all night. She wouldn’t be back until two or three in the morning, so...

"Sit down, I can hear your stomach growling all the way from here!" Abby commands. Gen laughs and smiles once she plops herself on a stool at the counter table top with Carol smiling back at her, too, only for a different reason.


	30. Chapter 30

Therese got off work around two-thirty in the morning. Her shift from last night wasn’t so bad, except for when she dropped her serving tray and broke a dozen of vodka shot glasses, or the hour she had spent trying to help look for a missing earring that belonged to one of the crying, hysterical pole dancers. Other than that, work had been very long and tiresome for her. She was still sleeping on the water bed around 11 o’clock with the cat curled up above her head until Gen finally decided to wake her up from her deep, peaceful slumber.

“Good morning, my princess of darkness,” she whispers close to Therese’s ear with her hands cupping the black dome of her lover’s head. She brushes their mouths together into a soft kiss. Therese squints her eyes open while Masaiah scrambles back up on all fours and leaps the moment Therese picks herself off the pillow, sitting halfway up with Genevieve grinning back at her.

“I’ve got something to show you, baby,” Gen says, cheerfully.

“Will you let me go pee first?” Therese clears the back of her throat and begins removing all the blankets off her lap. She is still tired. And cranky. And Gen, who is already dressed and wide awake, is much too loud and annoying for her liking right now. Masaiah flicks her multicolored tail and leaves the bedroom as Therese retreats barefoot to go use the toilet. When she flushes and comes out, she finds Gen holding Carol’s book in her hands.

“I got Carol Aird’s signature last night,” Gen says, breathlessly.

“What?! She was here?” Therese storms quickly across the wooden floorboards just as Gen opens the book out. She leans over her girlfriend’s shoulder to read the small and neat cursive message of Carol’s handwriting.

“Carol was here? Last night? H-how did she- What did she say?” Therese fires away, hating how panicky her voice sounded.

Gen laughs and slips her arm around Therese’s waist, rubbing the small part of her back, comfortingly. “Well, she wasn’t exactly _here_ , at this particular spot, but on the 4th floor with that wild friend of hers from the bar. Abby and I actually bumped into each other both doing laundry in the basement and talked for a bit. Abby told me that Carol Aird was staying over at her place for dinner, so she invited me upstairs to meet her. Luckily for me, I had the book with me the whole time and thought it was the perfect opportunity to get her autograph. So she signs my book, and that’s how it all happened!”

“You didn’t have to go meet her,” Therese murmurs.

Gen snorts. “What, are you, like, jealous? The only reason why I got her to sign it, was for you, chickadee. I know how much this woman means a lot to you. I saved you a plate of leftovers in the fridge, if you want it. We mostly talked about you during dinner last night-”

“ _You had dinner with her?!_ ” Therese seethes. Gen looks back at her, frighteningly, and raises her hands up in surrender while Therese huffs loudly and begins to pick out her clothes for the day. She’s in the mood to jog a couple of laps around the park. As she pulls out a dark green pair of Adidas shorts and a pair of black leggings, she feels Gen embrace her from behind, cuddling close to her, with her chin resting one curve side of Therese’s neck. Gen inhales and takes a couple of deep breaths before speaking again in a small, infant-like voice:

“Don’t be mad at me, babygirl. I’m sorry, sorry, sorry. I only wanted to please you, not to upset you. Everything’s good, because last night the three of us made a plan. Carol, Abby, and I, thought that maybe the four of us should go on a dinner date next Saturday? You’ll get a chance to see your blonde, lady crush again,” Gen explains softly, her voice muffles deep inside Therese’s shoulderblade.

“She’s not my lady crush,” Therese mumbles back, but she doesn’t pull away and lets Gen keep hugging her tight.

* * *

Therese moves through one of the leaf-layered, walking trails at the park in a loose-fitted sweatshirt and a purple-blue pair of New Balance sneakers. With her arms pumping up and down at her sides, and those spandex-clad legs flexing between, she keeps her eyes alert, straight ahead as she jogs. A young couple walking a Maltese on a glittery red leash stare after her as she zips past them. Therese uses a few air breathing techniques to keep her going and feels the loud pulsing in both ears and the heavy pounding of her heartbeat in her chest. 

The crisp, autumn air feels very refreshing and cool on her sweaty, hot face. With a bounce to her step, Therese pumps her legs to move faster. Dirt kicks up and flies off from the soles of her feet. The park belongs to her and her only. She has left Gen alone back at the apartment, still sour over the fact that she got to spend time with Carol without her. Of course she was jealous! Therese did not want Genevieve anywhere near her brooding, blonde-bombshell ex. It was all her fault for eyeing that stupid book in the book store to begin with.

She stops to catch her breath near one of the park benches at the pond with her hands swiping a few loose bangs off her forehead. She finds her water bottle where she left it - tucked underneath one of the stony-cement legs of the bench - and pops open the plastic cap with her teeth. Squirting the water into her mouth, Therese swallows, panting heavily, and drinks more. Every inch of her body pulses and throbs and she stays hydrated for more with her bottle of Aquafina and then begins to wrestle out of the Old Navy zippered sweatshirt and balls it to bury her face in.

A low, yet amusing whistle cuts through her mind and makes her wheel around to see Carol, herself, sitting on the grass with her laptop perched neatly on top of one of her folded legs and her plastic blue tote bag resting beside her with a pile of loose-leaf papers spilling out. The smirk on Carol’s face catches Therese off guard, of course, and they stare at each other for a long moment until Therese finally blinks away and feels her anger rising.

“Hello, Therese,” Carol greets formally. She studies the girl, watching her fidget. “Did you enjoy your run?”

“Don’t give me that,” Therese snaps. “I know about the autograph.”

“Did you like what I wrote? I thought it was very inspiring,” Carol says, calmly. 

“You had no right,” Therese begins with her voice all tight, feeling her throat closing up. “Just stay away from her! Stay away from us, Carol!”

“That’ll be a difficult thing to do considering all four of us will be having dinner together next Saturday,” Carol chuckles softly. She looks down beside her and pulls a Nutrigrain bar out of her bag. It’s apple cinnamon. “Are you hungry? We could split this...?”

“I know what you’re trying to do,” Therese snorts, shaking her head. “You’re acting all soft and sweet, trying to get me to fall in love with you again... But guess what? It won’t work anymore, because I’ve changed so much, and right now I can see right through you, Carol! Enough with the cat and mouse games! I’m over that! And I’m over you. So, no, I _won’t_ have any of your snacks! You’re just wasting your time.”

Carol tsks at her and slowly begins unwrapping the fruit bar. “I’m not playing any games with you, honey. And if I had in the past, I do apologize. I mean, if you really want to go down that road, you’re the one who’s actually playing Genevieve, so to speak, lying to her and whatnot...”

Therese flings her bottled water, spraying the air. “I swear to God, Carol, if you say anything-” she growls.

“It’s not my place to tell her the truth, Therese. That’s all up to you when the time comes. You’ve made your bed and will have to lie in it, eventually,” Carol responds, bringing the Nutrigrain bar close to her lips and taking a small bite. She nibbles some of it and then holds it out still with the wrapper sleeve. “You sure you don’t want a bite?”

“I told you, no,” Therese tells her, firmly. She won’t go for Carol’s bait. She knows better. And watching the blonde look at her makes her want to lash out. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like you said, you’ve changed so much,” Carol tells her gently. She gives her a small, sad smile. “It’s too bad that it didn’t work out for us.”

“Yeah, well, slapping me in the face made it pretty damn clear!” Therese snarls. 

Carol flinches from the swearing and shyly peers down, ashamed. “I’m sorry for hitting you. I lost control. I take all the blame for it.”

“None of that matters to me anymore, because I’m happy with somebody else now,” Therese says. 

“Glad to hear it, sweetheart.” Then Carol clears her throat and points her finger below. “Careful. Your shoe laces are untied.” 

Therese glances down at her sneaks and scowls as she takes a quick minute to tie up the purple colored laces of her left shoe.


	31. Chapter 31

Carol takes another bite of the fruity breakfast bar and tugs more of the plastic wrapper with her hands. A cool breeze picks up and sends a few clipped, blonde strands of her hair flying the corners of her mouth. She was growing her hair back out again. It was only a matter of time before it grew to its original, full length.

Therese has finished tying her sneakers and now wipes sweat off the base of her forehead with her balled up sweatshirt. She says in a discreet, tight manner, “If you actually believe this dinner will change us and turn everything back to the way it was, I just want to let you know that you’re wrong and that’s never going to happen...”

“Why must everything be all doom and gloom with you?” Carol demands, exasperated. “Is it really such a burden for us to stay on good terms and become friends?”

“It’s not that simple, Carol,” Therese scowls, rolling her eyes. “We were more than that. We were _lovers_.”

“Are you still in love with me?” Carol asks gently.

Therese doesn’t reply and shifts the weight on her feet.

“It’s a yes or no question,” Carol presses on. “Are you?”

“I can’t really say,” Therese murmurs. 

Carol laughs back at her and covers her face with both hands. This type of gesture triggers Therese off and makes her want to retreat. As soon as she starts moving forward; the older woman quickly adds,

“I know that I’m still in love with you, darling. Who was I fooling the moment I tried to hide from you at that Indian restaurant?”

Therese closes her eyes and staggers a bit now, smelling the scent of her deodorant and dirt lingering off her glistening skin. A lump forms in her throat and it hurts for her to swallow. 

“What about Abby?” the words simply roll off her tongue. 

_The million dollar question._

“My love for Abby’s a different kind. She’s been more like a best friend to me, really. I’m sure that’s very difficult for you to grasp that...” Carol pauses to take a brief moment to gather up all her typed word document papers before sliding them back inside her bag along with her laptop. Therese stands there and waits for Carol to pick herself off the grass and brush all the pine needles and dead leaves off her sunshine yellow tailored trousers.

“Don’t _do_ that,” Therese grumbles.

“Do ‘what’?” Carol frowns.

“Act like it’s too damn hard for me to understand things,” Therese scolds. “Most of the time when we were together, you always treated me like some kind of baby instead of your partner... your equal...”

“Have I?” Carol peers at her, curiously, slipping the blue cloth bag strap over around one shoulder. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I never took notice of that.”

They find themselves walking together through the park not really saying much, but enjoying each other’s company with the comforting silence filling between them. A cartoonist, who has joined the park today, sits in a metal folding chair, sketching a characture drawing of himself. He has made his head enormous with a very small, tiny body. 

Carol volunteers to be sketched and drawn out first. She sits very still on a wooden stool while the cartoonist starts drawing an oval shaped circle for the head on a blank sheet of paper. Therese stands by and watches them. She deliberately pushes the thought of Gen and their art class away from her mind as the cartoonist busily forms light, airy strokes with a small, eraseless pencil.

“Not bad,” Carol speaks up when her turn is over. She grins and pays the cartoonist for the drawing and glances over at Therese moving and taking a seat. The cartoonist begins with the head; sketching out a large, oval shape.

“I’m going to have a large forehead, I know it,” Therese murmurs, slouching her shoulders a bit on the wooden stool. Carol holds her arms together and stares back at the younger woman. She thinks about the upcoming dinner this Saturday and what Therese said about it. Abby is in the middle of working with a client right now, miles and miles away from the ex-lovers. Carol secretly admits to herself that she’s _glad_ she spotted Therese at the park. The last time they encountered one another was not very pleasant, because she was nothing but a drunken mess. 

“All done?” Therese asks the cartoonist, who bops his head along and rips another sheet of paper off his art easel to hold it out. Carol watches Therese grab her drawing and snickers once she sees the results. 

“Lemme see,” Carol chirps, moving closer towards her ex-girlfriend. There, the two of them share each other’s characture drawings: Therese, with a big forehead, is holding a sports bottle drink in one tiny hand. And Carol, with a big nose and chin, has her laptop bag slung around her tiny shoulder. 

“This will go right on my fridge at home!” Carol declares brightly. 

Just thinking about it, Therese shrinks back and folds up her drawing quickly in half. Genevieve pops back into her mind again, making her stomach do a couple of somersaults.

Carol, sensing the unsettling tension, playfully tugs on the sleeve of Therese’s sweatshirt. “I’ve got something to give you back at the house.”

“No, I can’t,” Therese responds. 

“Rindy made it, so I think you should come see it,” Carol explains straightforward.

Hearing the name of Carol’s daughter felt like a set of bells and whistles go off and breaks Therese’s heart.

The kitchen looks and feels the same like it did when she came the night she dropped both Abby and Carol off. Therese waits by the doorframe, awkwardly, watching Carol move towards the countertop wooden drawers and pull some out.

“Where did I put it? I know it’s around here somewhere...” Carol frantically rummages around through half empty boxes of ziplock snack bags and aluminum foil to find whatever she’s looking for. Her fingers slide and shove sets of silverware, loose toothpicks, and a couple of leftover soy sauce packets. She eventually slams the kitchen drawers shut to bend over at the dry food cabinets and check to see between the cereal boxes.

Therese watches Carol pull something out from underneath the coffee canister. It’s a drawing, of course. Carol brushes a few coffee grinds off before handing Therese the paper. Rindy’s colorful scribbling of her family brings out a small, sad smile on Therese’s face.

“Rindy still loves you, too,” Carol informs. 

“I-I know,” Therese croaks. She wipes off some of her tears and sniffles.

“I could heat up some food,” Carol offers, politely. “You hungry?”

“The leftovers you had with Abby and Gen last night? No thank you,” Therese scoffs. “I have to go. I can pick something up on the way home...”

“Angel, this _is_ your home,” Carol snaps. “Were you always this stubborn?!”

“I’ll see you at dinner, Carol. Thank you for the drawing,” Therese concludes. She turns around and makes her way out with the picture.

“Don’t thank me, thank Rindy!” Carol angrily shouts after her with the front door closing shut.


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaah! Does anyone remember this story? I barely do, just kidding, of course I do! For the longest time (months) I’ve had writers block until this came to me now... No, it’s not the dinner chapter yet, but that should be coming close soon.  
> !!!

“You good?” Dannie blows out a thick sheet of marijuana smoke out from his lips, staring across from Therese inside his truck in the parking lot at a Dairy Queen.

Therese doesn’t answer him and just reaches over to take the rolled-up joint he’s holding out in his hand. With her thumb and forefinger pinched; she takes a hit. Then another that breaks her out into a coughing fit.

“Here. Have some water,” Dannie mumbles, pulling out his half-empty Mountain Dew bottle from the cup holder below the leather stick shift. Therese snorts and giggles as she pushes the plastic green bottle away. She’s high tonight, but not enough to forget what water looks like. Dannie shrugs and drops the soda back in the holder. He plucks the joint from her fingers and takes his turn to hit. 

“How’s Billie?” Therese gazes back at him with a wide, sloppy grin.

“She’s big now,” Dannie says, holding his breath before puffing out more smoke. “Rich and I feed her way too much fucking food! She had a wine cork stuck in her windpipe last week. Rich drove us through five fucking stop lights to get her to the vet!”

“Oh my god - is she okay?” Therese demands. She squeezes Dannie’s left bicep; knocking over her melting cookie dough paper cup and spoon. The cushion’s passenger seat will get sticky and wet with ice cream if she doesn’t hurry and pick up the fallen cup.

“Y-yeah, she’s fine,” Dannie stammers and nervously laughs how wacky Therese appears with her face all red and drugged up. She can barely keep her eyes open, she’s that stoned. “Maybe you should come over next time? Rich would love that... He misses you, Terry.”

Therese pulls away from him and takes the remaining roach. She inhales a nice, long drag and thinks about Carol and how hilarious those caricature drawings came out. Then she thinks about Abby and Carol fucking, which quickly switches and changes into Gen fucking _her_ and then changes again to the four of them all having dinner on Saturday with loaded baggage of stress, regret, insecurity, and love. 

Therese coughs loudly with tears beading from the corners of her eyes. She dumps the butt of the joint into the paper cream cup and yanks the plastic green soda cap once Dannie offers the Mountain Dew soda again. He smirks inside his stuffy, weed-infested truck with his forehead resting on the steering wheel. He amusingly watches Therese drink the soda in loud, heavy gulps. 

She gets home to find Gen tuning her acoustic guitar on the rug floor in the living room of their studio apartment. She glares up at Therese through her brown bangs. “How was your jog? Had no idea it would take you _five hours_.”

“Can we not argue or fight tonight? Please? You never told me you could play guitar,” Therese says, placing both her sweatshirt and water bottle down on the kitchen table. Both the caricature of her and Rindy’s picture she drew are folded and left inside her sweatshirt pocket. Therese kicks off her sneakers and walks straight toward the fridge to heat up her portion of last night’s leftovers in the microwave.

“I’ve played guitar and sang songs pretty much my whole life, but that’s a different story for a different day. Let’s not change the subject, babe,” Gen scoffs, laying the guitar flat on her lap. “What the fuck have you been doing? Or should I say ‘smoking’? With who? You’re higher than the Eiffel Tower right now.”

“Smoking weed with Dannie,” Therese tells her with a smirk. She has her back facing toward Genevieve with her eyes focused on her dinner plate spinning around and around heating up inside the microwave. She feels the soft curving of Masaiah’s tail wrapping around between her bare ankles. Therese bends over to pick up the cat and peppers the purring animal soft kisses between her warm yellow eyes.


	33. Chapter 33

Genevieve turns around to see Therese sitting up in a long-sleeve graphic shirt and yoga pants, doing a crossword puzzle in bed. She’s not even close to being ready for tonight’s dinner date with Carol and Abby. 

“Are you going to, like, put something on? We told them we’d be there at 7:30,” Gen scowls. She walks over to her girlfriend in a Peter Pan collared white blouse and black jeans. She stops and waits for Therese to answer. When she does not, Gen rips the puzzle booklet out from the girl’s hands.

“Gen! What the _hell,_ ” Therese growls, upset.

“This whole silent treatment shit is really starting to annoy me,” Gen snaps.

“Give me that!” Therese shouts.

Gen waves the booklet in the air. “Hel-lo? Have you not been hearing a word I just said? We are going out to eat with Carol and Abby tonight. Get dressed, so we can-”

“I don’t want to have dinner with them. I never said I wanted to go,” Therese cut off.

Gen scoffs and throws back the crossword puzzle booklet, watching Therese catch it in her hands. “So what am I suppose to do? Go to the friggin’ restaurant by myself? That’ll be fun!” 

Therese doesn’t open the booklet, but just taps on the lamented cover with her pencil. She knows that if she doesn’t join this dinner date with Gen, she’ll feel like a rotten girlfriend and regret it for a long time to come.

“Fine,” Therese huffs out.

Gen grabs her by both cheeks and kisses her loudly on the lips.

The restaurant they made reservations for is called MacBeth’s. Therese follows Gen, who follows the hostess, through a narrow, winding pathway towards the left side of the building past several tables filled with people and plates of delicious hot food. Therese relaxes as soon as she finds out the table they reserved for tonight appears to be empty. Carol and Abby have not shown up yet.

“Thanks,” Gen says, once the hostess pulls a chair out for her. She sits down while the hostess moves around to pull a chair out for Therese.

“Can I start you ladies off with drinks?” 

“Water,” Therese murmurs.

“I’ll have a ginger ale,” Gen bops her head.

The hostess memorizes their orders and sets a menu to all four seats. She leaves in a rush.

Therese eyes around the noisy, garlic bread-rosemary scented restaurant and plays with the tip of her fork. Gen reaches over and places a hand over hers.

“Don’t be nervous,” she reassures. “They’re not here yet.”

“I look dumb in this dress,” Therese replies.

“Not even close, babe,” Gen smirks. “You’re goddamn gorgeous.”

Therese shyly gazes down in the olive green embroidered lace dress she’s wearing with a matching shawl draped around her shoulders. Her short, black dyed hair is clipped to one side of her face with a bejeweled green dragonfly.

A waiter comes over with the drinks and folds his hands together, grinning towards the women. “Hello, ladies! My name’s Dylan, and I will be your waiter for this evening. Are we all set to order?”

“No, Dylan, not yet,” Gen says, sharply. “We have two more people arriving with us tonight, so you’ll have to wait a second, okay?”

Therese brings her glass of water to her lips and takes a sip while Dylan nods along, all apologetic. He tells them that he’ll be back in another few minutes before sauntering off.

Gen picks up her soda and takes a sip. Therese thinks about Carol and how it’s very typical of her to be late. 

“Maybe they’re caught up in traffic,” Gen speaks for them both. “Maybe Carol is busy signing autographs or something?”

Therese makes a face, but remains quiet. She glances up past Gen to see Abby and Carol heading towards her and Gen’s direction at their table. Therese’s heart races at the sight of her ex. Carol looks spontaneous in a gold metallic Armani suit with her hair tousled out. She wears smoky eyeshadow and beige lipstick. Abby wears a simple, lilac purple blouse and some floral mid-length skirt.

“Hello,” Carol greets them pleasantly, bending over to kiss Gen on the cheek, then doing the same thing to Therese with an affectionate squeeze on her bare left kneecap underneath the tablecloth.

“Sorry we’re late,” Abby says, breathlessly. “We, uh, had trouble parking...” she purposely holds her neck out to expose all the darkish brown hickeys Carol gave her on the car ride over. A sharp pain shoots inside Therese and makes her fidget in her seat. Carol takes a chair beside her, while Abby sits next to Gen.

“Therese and I were wondering what took you guys so long,” Gen smiles, picking up her menu.

“Yes, well, here we are,” Carol responds, sitting up taller in her seat. She smiles up when Dylan appears and asks her what she’ll have to drink.

“I’ll have a strawberry smoothie margarita with sugar on the rim,” Carol says, formally.

“Same for me, please,” Abby pipes in.

Therese snorts and taps her nails against the glass of water. 

“I’ll be right back with those,” Dylan grins.

When he’s gone, Abby leans over Gen’s shoulder to look at the menu. 

Carol reaches for her own menu.

“I think I will have the scallop potatoes with cooked spinach and pork chops,” Abby announces. She glances up towards Carol. “What are you going to have, honey?”

“The tortellini soup sounds delightful,” Carol responds. “We should probably get some appetizers, too.”

“Babe, what are you going to get?” Gen asks Therese now. “I’m ordering the shell pasta with a salad.”

Therese keeps clicking away her nails against the glass of water and feels Carol’s eyes burning her. Dylan comes over now and sets the two smoothie alcoholic drinks below on the table. “Are we all ready to order?” he asks.

“Give us another minute,” Abby says. “Not all of us have decided yet.”

“I’m ready,” Therese insists. “I want the ham with cauliflower.”

“I’m going to have the tortellini soup,” Carol adds along. “Breadsticks for the appetizers, too.”

“I want the scallop potatoes with spinach, and pork chops,” Abby recites.

Dylan quickly pulls out his pad of paper and pen and writes everything down.

“And I would like the shell pasta with canned tomato sauce,” Gen concludes.

Dylan finishes writing and quickly puts away his memo pad and pen in the pocket of his apron. “Those will be ready shortly. Thank you, girls...” he leaves their table once more with a nod of the head.

Gen takes the straw from Abby’s margarita drink to her lips and takes a sip from it and says, “Why do waiters always tell you that? ‘Dinner will be ready shortly’ like it’s some kind of promise? We all know that’s a bunch of bullshit, trying to make us more hungry!”

Both Abby and Carol laugh. Therese stares at Genevieve drinking the other woman’s smoothie like a milkshake. Carol takes notice of this, and politely offers her own beverage.

Therese stubbornly shakes her head no once Carol pushes the martini glass closer towards her. Gen keeps sipping Abby’s smoothie margarita like no joke, which makes Therese angrier than a hornet’s nest.


	34. Chapter 34

Dylan arrives with a basket of breadsticks and places it in the center of their table. Again, he tells everyone that the food will be ready shortly. He smiles and walks away from the table. The four women all reach out for their own bread and take turns using the olive oil and butter. 

Abby rips off a part of her breadstick and dunks one end of it with the oil she had poured some on her ceramic plate.

“So Genevieve,” she starts off. “Tell us how you and Therese met?”

“Art class,” Gen answers. “We both took Sketching.” She bites into the tip of her breadstick and quickly plucks out her folded cloth napkin tied around her silverware.

“How fun,” Carol pleasantly responds. She begins to unroll the cuffs of her long-sleeved, tailored blouse. “What did you learn from it?”

Therese, chewing, looks over towards Gen, who smirks right back at her. They both think back to the day of Gen posing herself naked in the middle of the art room and how life pretty much changed for them after that. Therese swallows and gutters out a reply, “I learned that Genevieve Cantrell is not afraid of anything. She’s brave and beautiful and I’m very happy to be with her tonight.”

“Aw,” Abby goes, while Gen snorts and makes Therese grin. It’s Carol who grows quiet and reaches for her margarita. She blames herself for asking in the first place. She had no idea how painful Therese’s answer would be on her just now. _If that’s how you want tonight’s dinner to go, Angel,_ she thinks. _Fine. I’ll bite. Two can play at that game! Bring it on._

“You wanna know something? That’s exactly how I felt with Abby on the day I was leaving for my trip to Florida,” Carol speaks up now, smiling. “She was so sweet to me— Reading my palm, feeling my pulse. You remember that, don’t you, honey?”

“Uh huh,” Abby grins.

“It was truly magical for the both of us,” Carol goes on. “Especially when things got hot and steamy the second we made out in the room...”

“It was so sexy. I almost made her miss her flight,” Abby adds.

Gen laughs the minute she watches Abby and Carol pucker and smack their lips at each other over the table. 

Therese just simply glares on.

When the plates of their food begin to arrive, the subject of friendship and relationships alternate and switch on the topic about Carol’s upcoming book. The sequel to her first best seller: _No Air At His Place_.

“I can't give anything away, but I can tell you this,” Carol says, lifting her spoon up to blow out her soup. “Ebony keeps the baby.”

“Oh my god— She’s pregnant?!” Abby squeals with excitement. 

“But who’s the father? Don’t say it’s Anton,” Gen says, wrinkling her nose.

Carol delicately sips from her spoon. “I didn’t actually say that Ebony Boone was the one who was pregnant,” she hinted.

Abby’s eyes widened. “Wait. Is it Ruby? Her sister?”

“No, it’s the girlfriend!” Gen exclaims.

Therese takes a bite of cauliflower, sulking. She could feel Carol’s blue-gray eyes glowing upon hers. “What do you think, Therese? I know how very fond you are with my work.”

Therese bats her eyes low and then stabs her fork hard into a steaming stalk of cauliflower. “I don’t really know,” she hears herself say. 

“Hey,” Gen says, placing a hand over hers. She smiles softly and shakes their hands a bit.

“I still think it’s Ruby, the sister,” Abby goes on, ignoring the two girls. “I’m going to be the first one to read it when it’s all finished, right babe?” 

“Of course, darling. I’m going to dedicate the final draft to you,” Carol says, while Abby beams on. Gen sits back and eats more of her food. That’s when Therese finds herself rising up from the table like she’s about to go excuse herself. Her hand then purposely bumps and knocks over Carol’s bowl of hot tortellini soup; making it spill all over her gold encrusted suit pants.


End file.
